


Story Drabbles #1

by Mycelle



Series: Story Drabbles [1]
Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Angels, Assassins & Hitmen, Demigods, Demons, Fluff, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insomnia, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Small Mention Of Drugs, Small mention of human trafficking, Sorcerers, Suicidal Thoughts, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycelle/pseuds/Mycelle
Summary: Miscellaneous drabbles involving various OCs
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character & Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character/Original Non-Binary Character
Series: Story Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605133
Kudos: 8





	1. Amazing Dolce But With a Moody Sorcerer

**Author's Note:**

> each chapter has its own summary + tags! Please read at your own risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a young assassin's childish curiosity and a poor sorcerer being peer-pressured by the assassin he hired and the nymph familiar he calls his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some good ol' fluff between an assassin, a sorcerer, and a familiar nymph. Title/drabble inspired by [the song Amazing Dolce](https://youtu.be/pm73YeHvAIs)!

“Can you cook food with your magic?" Leon blinked and looked towards the curious blonde girl across the table from him. She looked at him with wide, curious eyes, almost like that of a child's. The sorcerer scoffed. How could someone who killed people for a living make such eyes?

"I  _ can _ , if I wanted to, but I don't," he responded, his voice firm and clear. The blonde pouted and whined, banging her hand on the table. 

"But whyyy nooot?" she whined, stomping down her foot and pushing out her bottom lip. He guessed she really  _ acted  _ like a child, not only looked like one. 

"Primrose, tell me again, why do you like this girl?" he called out for his lover and assistant, who walked into the dining room and calmly placed a tray of cups and a pot of earl grey tea on the table. 

"Riri is a good friend of mine," she replied politely yet bluntly at the same time (he still doesn’t understand how she can pull that off, and yet she did it so perfectly), "and you said I could invite her over." The sorcerer glanced at the blond, who leaned forward and sniffed at the pot of tea, her face immediately twisting with disgust at the scent, making Leon grimace and sigh before he reached for one of the glass cups. 

"And remind me, why did I say that?" he muttered, reaching for the glass pot before Prim took the pot and gracefully poured the steaming tea into his cup before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, making him blush.

“Because you love me,” she smirked and responded, giving him yet another peck on the cheek for extra measure. Leon’s face darkened further and he huffed, but he didn’t push the subject any further.

“Yeah, Rosy said I could come!” the blonde confirmed, “and besides, you still haven’t paid me!” The sorcerer rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea.

“I did, Ms. Riko. I transferred the money to your account,” he replied calmly with a hint of annoyance, like he had already answered the same question multiple times. Riko whined loudly and slammed her hands on the table, making Leon flinch, Prim’s eyes widening as she saw how he slightly paled, but just as she was about to comfort him, he shook his head and gave her a weak smile, signaling to her that he’s alright. Riko didn’t seem to notice the exchange, too worked up about what she thought to be the biggest problem.

“But that’s not the same!! I need physical, cold, hard cash!” she huffed, standing up on the chair she had just been sitting on, her fluffy dress falling to her knees as her expression became dreamy. “The feeling of the silky, soft texture of dollar bills, its sweet grassy scent, all wrapped up snuggly in my arms…” Her dreamy expression turned into a pouty glare and she jabbed a finger at the unamused sorcerer’s face. “ _ That’s _ supposed to be my payment, not your fake account money or whatever!” Leon glanced up at the assassin with a flat, half-lidded gaze before closing his eyes and taking another sip of his tea.

“You never specified in what specific form you wanted your payment, Ms. Riko,” he stated, “so I chose the most convenient way for me.” He took another sip. “Also, please get off my chair.”

“I thought it was implied!” Riko cried, though she did hop off the chair, easily landing on her feet. “People usually give me cash! I didn’t even know Uncle created an account for me!”

“The black market’s evolved,” Leon replied simply, placing his cup down on the table before bringing his arm around Primrose’s shoulders, gently pulling her closer to him, letting her lean on him as he nuzzled his cheek against her soft, silky hair, a smile fluttering onto his lips as he did so before continuing. “Technology has evolved enough to allow us to transfer large sums of money without any trace. Getting you physical money would be a pain, and I do not wish for Primrose to have that burden. If she’s your friend, do you not agree with my thinking?” Riko shrunk back a bit at both his words and his smug grin. She groaned and plopped back into her seat.

“Fine,” she mumbled and crossed her arms, “but only because of Rosy!” Leon let out a quiet huff of a chuckle and held his lover closer to him once more, his hand around her sliding to her side, which made Prim shiver but smile wider at the touch as she closed her eyes and snuggled into the person she’s devoted her life to for a few seconds before she let her eyes open.

She turned her head towards the sorcerer and asked, “You can make food with your magic?” Leon’s eyes widened a bit at the abrupt question before he groaned inwardly when Riko immediately perked up. With one look into those oh-so-beautiful amethyst eyes that looked at him so curiously and lovingly, he couldn’t help but cave in. 

He gave a quiet sigh. “Yes, I can; with the right ingredients, I can make edible charms,” he explained.

“So, like, you can make cookies with magic?” Riko gasped. Leon rolled his eyes with the crude simplification of his words, but he nodded.

“Yes, I can make cookies with magic that can give you certain powers or abilities, but only temporarily; I do not have the time nor the desire to make anything more powerful than that.” Riko’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

“I wanna make magical cookies!!” she exclaimed, a broad grin painted on her lips. Leon sighed and rubbed his temples. He was afraid that was what she was going to say, but he wasn’t expecting--

“I’d like to make them too.” He blinked and looked towards Prim, who smiled softly yet eagerly, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Can’t we make them, Leon?” The sorcerer hesitated, but he groaned as she gave him those puppy eyes that he could never resist.

“...I’ll go get the spellbook.”


	2. A Place in Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brem wants to give James some space on the anniversary of his wife's death, but his boyfriend surprises him in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for character death!

Brem knew what day was today. How could he not? He had been anticipating it for quite a bit, a month at least. He and James hadn’t planned anything specifically; he didn’t know how James was going to act on this day, and he wanted to give him space if he needed. After all, it was his first time being “officially” together with James, and he was well aware of what happened to his late wife, and all the trauma and grief and guilt that came with it. He didn't mind it per se, always denied ever feeling any sort of burden for James having such trauma, and rather wanted to help him through it in any way he could. 

James was getting better with coping with it, the newspaper editor would like to think; he didn’t like to give himself credit for it--after all it was James that could make himself move on--but he was here for him whenever he needed them, and he was proud of all the progress the hypnotherapist had made. There definitely wasn't anything wrong with getting comfort from those around him, though, and that had certainly been evident for the past few days, which were spent comforting James as he sobbed into his chest and let out the grief he had been holding for so long. It had shocked him just how isolated he really had been when it came to people to lean on. Brem still couldn't wrap around his head how someone would be “overwhelmed by burden” to be with James. Everyone had their own demons, after all. 

But he didn’t know what his lover was going to do today, the actual official day of his wife’s death; it he decided that perhaps it might be best to give him some space to properly grieve, and Jo was there to be with him too today, so he wanted to give the two of them space in this mournful day. He understood that perhaps being in a relationship with someone after being married could be hard, and he wanted to support James in anyway he could.

Admittedly, that didn’t mean he wished he could be there for him, though. But, he understood that James needed some space.

Which was why Brem wasn't expecting the noiret to be at his door when he went to answer it, a bouquet in one of his hands and a singular flower--a white lily, he believes--in the other. What surprised him the most, other than his unexpected visit, was the fact that James seemed to be smiling, albeit the tiniest bit shakily.

“Sorry for showing up so suddenly…” he murmurs sheepishly with that smile, the hand holding the singular flower rubbing at the back of his neck in that cute way that made Brem’s heart flutter with happiness. Brem didn’t expect him to be so happy, or at least smiling so much. Adoration filled him as he listens to him patiently, his hazel eyes wide with surprise as his own lips curl with a natural smile too.

“No, no, it’s alright I’m happy to see you,” Brem responded, his tone honest and sincere. He really was alright with the unexpected visit and really was happy to see him, his smile widening slightly as he watched James’s expression light up with surprise before his heart fluttered in his chest by the way his own smile widens into that really sincere grin that made his eyes crinkle slightly and Brem’s entire being melt. _God, the things this man could do to him._

“Thanks...I’m really happy to see you too.” James holds out the bouquet of flowers as if he was giving it to him. Brem blinked, surprised. He suddenly realized that the bouquet was filled entirely with an assortment of his favorite flowers. Funny how he had missed that fact, too preoccupied with the mere fact that his lover was _here_ in the first place, much less with flowers for _him_. 

He found himself growing the slightest bit shy, though he didn't hesitate to let his grin grow wide onto his lips. He gently took the bouquet from his hands, utterly filled with affection. He was left speechless for a good moment before he looked up at James’s soft golden eyes and leaned in to briefly kiss his cheek. “Thank you, James, they're beautiful,” Brem beamed. He had never been given flowers before, and the fact that he could just _tell_ how much thought was put into the bouquet, with the color scheme and types clearly having some sort of meaning, made a radiant smile light up on his face. This was one of the many reasons why he loved James so much. He was just so considerate and thoughtful and _god he was gay._

But he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to why James was here. Shouldn't he be at least mourning his late wife in some way? Brem suddenly realized he wasn't sure about how his wife was...treated after her death, and he couldn’t help but look at the white lily gently grasped in James’s other hand still. If the bouquet of flowers were for him, then surely the white lily was for his wife’s grave? He looked back up at James with a look of curiosity, wanting to ask but unsure of what to say. “Is that for…?” he slowly asked and then trailed off, not wanting to be too blunt. 

He watched James perk up and blink, initially confused before he looked down at the lily as if he had forgotten he was holding it in the first place. “Ah..yeah, it is…” Brem noticed the way he shifted his feet a bit before continuing, “I was...wondering if...you’d like to come with me to her grave..? Y-you don’t have to, if you don’t want to, though…” He felt his heart tighten slightly as he saw the way his lips pursed together and he cast his gaze downwards, surely feeling bad for even asking for such a thing. It was a classic James thing to do, and Brem was more than happy to cut off any take-backs he would usually utter. He was expecting them to come, which was why he was taken off guard by James saying, “I...I would..I do want you to come, though…” 

Brem stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before he shifted to hold the flowers in one hand and reached out to take his free one with James’s now-free hand. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles in a reassuring manner, his expression sympathetic with a loving smile curled on his lips. He then moved to gently kiss his hand, smiling against the back of it at the way he could just tell James was blushing at the gesture. He was so _cute._

He lingered there for just a moment before pulling away and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course I’ll come with you, I'd be happy to.” He slid his hand up to stroke James’s long, silky black hair, eyes watching the blush on his cheeks. He could feel the way James tenses before slowly relaxing as he runs his hand slowly back down his arm. “I’ll put these in some water and be right back, okay? Don’t you dare go back on your word now.” Brem winks to show he's joking if the lighthearted tone didn't convey it, and he feels his heart do the thing again when he is met with a chuckle and a nod.

“I won't,” He paused for a second before smiling a bit. “Thank you, Brem.” 

Brem is beaming again as he nods and returns the small smile. “Of course, James.” He gave his hand a squeeze and one more smile before going back upstairs to put the flowers up, leaving the door open as he does just so James knows he’s coming back for sure. 

He came back as soon as he could, practically skipping down the stairs to head back to his lover as soon as possible. He felt the tiniest bit of relief when he saw James still standing there, his hand holding the lily now twirling absentmindedly as he seemed lost in thought. He quickly snapped out of it once Brem hit the ground once more. Brem gives the man a sympathetic smile before he heads over to him and starts putting on his shoes. “Ready to go?” Once finished, he pops back up into a standing position and holds out an arm for James to take. It takes him by surprise for a moment before he smiles and gently takes his arm. 

“Yeah,” James murmured before slowly resting his head on Brem’s broad shoulder. The brunet smiled softly at the gesture. He leaned down to gently press his lips to the top of his lover’s head for a moment before he pulled away and closed the door for them. He quickly locked the door before they both headed out. Since James was leading the both of them and seemed to come without any sort of car (though, Brem supposed he didn’t own any), he quickly inferred they were going to walk the way, which was fine with him; he rather enjoyed walking, anyway.

About ten minutes into the comfortable silence, however, Brem had to admit he started to feel a bit...antsy. Though he did know how she died and how that had affected James...he didn’t actually know that much about the woman herself. He found himself quite curious, though he really didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Perhaps he could start with something simple? “What was...what was she like..?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He wanted to give James the chance to decline talking if he felt like it, because he understood if he didn’t want to talk about it. To his surprise, however, James seemed to have anticipated his curiosity as he smiles somberly and gently squeezes his grip around him. Brem slowly leaned into James more at that, his head lightly resting on top of his, quite thankful that he wasn’t upset or anything of the sort. His arm around his waist gently squeezed as if to convey his appreciation, and James responded with a soft kiss to his cheek. He then hummed in thought for a moment or two before answering. 

“She was...she was really bright, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. Jones got his bright blond hair from her, and she was really smart...graduated college years earlier than the average person." He paused and gave a weak chuckle.. "Her emotional capacity was that of a bratty child's, though." Brem gently chuckled. 

“She sounds amazing anyway,” he replied sincerely, “Like...the type of person who does things for the right reasons? She sounds like she put her heart into everything...like she devoted herself completely to anything she took part in.” He paused. “Or am I totally way off?” That earned him a soft laugh, which made Brem smile.

“Yeah...she was like that, actually,” James nodded and hummed, his voice holding a tinge of what he could only describe as reminiscent. Brem lightly nuzzled into James’s hair, more questions that he had always wondered about surfacing to his mind now that he knows that he could ask such questions, though he definitely made sure to steer clear about anything pertaining to her death. He really wanted to know more about her and what she was like, but he also didn’t want to overwhelm James or anything. 

“Where’s Jo, by the way?” he asked, realizing that the blond was nowhere to be found.

“He’s out with some friends,” James replied before he paused. “He, um, insisted I go with you.” A grin curled onto Brem’s lips as he noticed the way James got all shy and blushy again before it slowly faded as he saw his golden eyes glance towards the ground. “He..also wanted to go alone.” Brem could feel James tense slightly at that, and so he gently squeezed him once more to get him out of those darker thoughts.

“I’m sure it’s not because of you, James,” Brem reassured, smoothing his hand up and down his lover’s arm. “I’m sure that after everything, he just wants to see her on her own, since, well…” He trails off but knows that James understands where he’s going with it as he gives a small nod. It got quiet between the two of them again, and Brem decided to shift the conversation again to slightly lighten things up. “So..where did you two meet?” he decided to ask first. James blinked, seemingly coming out of a daze before he leaned towards Brem and took a moment to process his answer to the question.

"We met when I was around 18...I was still working at the bar the guy who took me in owned, and she..." Brem felt his heart flutter again at the way James smiles nostalgically. "She came one day, slamming the door open, and I remember her beady blue eyes scanning the whole bar before she spots me and immediately rushes in and outright tackles me to the ground." Brem couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped his lips when he said that.

“She tackled you?” he asked, both to make sure James knew he was listening but also because he wanted to make sure he heard right. James looks towards him with a fond smile and the way he chuckled himself made Brem feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Yeah, she did...you could imagine how bewildered I was when a blonde girl suddenly tackled me to the ground like that. Turns out, she was a fanatic about Greek culture, especially Greek mythology, and well...hypnosis." Brem smiled a bit at that, his expression one of loving as he shifted his arm around his waist and let his hand rub up and down his side a bit in reassurance. 

“She must’ve been strong to pull off a feat like that, tackling you??” Brem tittered at the thought, though he paused for a second as he suddenly realized something. “Wait, she knew you had powers even before meeting you?” James hummed and lifted the white lily up to gently tap at the side of his eyes, which made Brem giggle and in turn, James laugh. 

“Golden eyes aren’t common, love,” he chuckled. “She wasn’t usually strong, only when she does erratic things like that.” Brem couldn’t help the laugh that escaped them as the image of a young James being absolutely mauled by this woman entered his mind. 

He grinned before responding with: “Well, yeah, but she knew they meant hypnosis? Are there books on it? I thought it would all be legend, or more difficult to dig information up on at least." On the topic of James’s eyes, though, Brem really did love them. He honestly found the fact that James had god blood within him rather fascinating and just downright cool more than anything else. 

“There are legends about it, yes,” he nods, “I had ancestors, after all, some more infamous than others, and she was rather driven in her research towards hypnosis, especially more so with the connections to Greek mythology and everything." Brem nodded back.

"She really does sound amazing...all that work by herself, and finding out it was true, I don't blame her for tackling you,” He admitted, chuckling again. He himself being a newspaper editor could understand the feeling of doing all this research and finding out that what you’re trying to prove is in fact true. Now, admittedly, he wasn’t the one doing the research, but he supposed he was part of the process.

"I actually tried to deny her that I had powers,” James admitted with a snicker. “She was just so persisting that I had half a mind to hypnotize her to go away; I was really close once I believe.” They both laughed at that.

Brem thought for a moment before another question popped up in his head. "When did you know she was the one?" That one seemed to have caught James off guard, his head perking up a little at that. Brem suddenly felt James pull him closer against him. His eyes widened a small bit at the gesture, and he wondered if he had gone too far with that question. He held onto him tighter and didn’t press him on saying anything; instead, he nuzzled into his hair and got James to return the gesture. Brem hummed at that, patiently waiting for him to answer. 

“Well...it was…” James seemed..almost nervous, guilty perhaps, before he heaved a small sigh. “When I found out she was pregnant?” Brem’s eyes grew wide, shock taking him over as he blinked and took a moment to process such an answer, though not too long; he didn’t want to scare James.

“What made you decide to stay when you found out? Did you…” He hesitated, but found that he couldn’t back out with James looking at him so expectantly, “did you ever think about leaving?” The reaction was immediate, James’s eyes growing wide before he shook his head quite firmly. 

“No, never,” he blurts out before freezing the slightest bit. Brem felt James squirm a little as his fingers flexed a bit against his sides, and the brunet gently rubbed his hands up and down his sides to soothe him. He was relieved to feel James slightly relax against his touch. "I...well I…” James let out a sigh, as if he had made a decision. Brem pressed against him to reassure him as he listened intently to what he had to say. “I'm sure, as you know already, I...battled with depression...of course it got worse after..she died...but it was pretty bad even before then.” Brem didn’t actually know that, but he supposed he had had a feeling. He continued to listen to his lover.

“I think I..I loved her before that, but I never realized it nor could admit it to myself until I found out she was pregnant...she didn't even want to tell me, honestly. When I found out and confronted her she was crying and yelling at me..." He bit his lips and shook his head again, as if he was replaying the memory in his head, "but I never thought about leaving her, I never could, even if she was the one who'd push me away. G-..growing up, my father was...abusive...and I don't know if my mother is alive or not to this day...and then, being raised in an orphanage, moving from house to house multiple times...I grew to shut myself and my heart out from anyone...wanted to ruin myself and didn't give two shits about the world...she and the person who raised me changed me a bit, but..not much…” There was another pause, his breath wavering before he continued. “But..but when I realized that I was going to be the father of a child, I...I cleaned up my act faster than anything I've ever done in my life...I suddenly found a purpose to live...I couldn't bear to have my own child go through what I had to."

Brem took a moment to process everything James said in his head, his hand still squeezing his to reassure him before he moved his head to kiss the top of his head. “I didn’t think you did...think of leaving her that is; I see how you are with Jo, and I hear how you talk about her, and what you've been through without her...no one can fake love like that." He paused for a bit, taking another moment to think about what he wanted to say, but the way that James looked at them with such patience and appreciation with what he had already said was reassuring. "It takes a lot too, you know? To grow like that in such a short time...to become better and to become the person you need to be for a child... Jo’s lucky to have you, James...to have a father like you, and I know it can be rough sometimes--it always is with family--but I see the way he looks up to you and he really does love you, so so much." Brem took a moment to let his words sink in before continuing, his thumb gently rubbing into James’s side as they walked at a slow pace. "I see how much you care, how you worry about doing the right thing, and...how it tears you apart sometimes...but even just trying is so much; I mean, you risked everything for him, and he knows that and appreciates that a lot.” Brem gently squeezed James. “You are a _good father_ James. You want him to be safe and you want him to have a life and to be happy, and you do everything to try and achieve that, and that...that is what matters, and Jo has become such an amazing person." He really loved Jo too in his own little way, which also aided in why he could say all these things with confidence. 

"You were a good husband, too--you still are, really.” Brem didn’t notice, but James’s warm expression started to fall into one of thoughtfulness as he continued to speak. “You loved her and still love her uniquely, and you...you cleaned up for her too in a way when you became a father; you stayed and nurtured and cared and provided...I know that she would never regret any of it." When he finished speaking (he felt like had rambled to be honest), he finally noticed the way James seemed to be glancing around his surroundings. It made Brem do the same, and it was then he noticed that James was guiding them through a forest of sorts, foliage and trees enveloping them before they soon started to clear out to show a plain hill. He felt fear start to build up in him when James didn't say anything. Had he upset him in some way??

"Thank you, Brem, for saying all those things...I really do appreciate them," James looked back towards Brem with a warm, loving smile that slowly melted away his fear, a soft smile curling onto his own lips as he relaxed and nodded. James’s gaze softened at that before he continued speaking. "...I do..I loved her...I really did..." Brem smiled softly at that and nodded. He supposed it was weird to hear someone he loved say that he loved someone else, but it was different, in a way; really, Brem was glad that James hadn't pushed out his love for his wife after she passed. 

He let him lead them up the hill, where he noticed something at the very peak. "But...things have changed," James murmured as they reached the top. Brem’s eyes widen at that and he glanced down towards James, who gave him a gentle squeeze in response. Brem smiled softly, feeling that warm feeling pool inside him again. He snuggled closer to James as he came to see that the something he had noticed was a grave, _the grave_. He smiled softly yet sadly as they approach it.

Once they were close to the grave, James lifted his hand up to rest gently on Brem’s cheek, letting it linger there as he moves to stand in front of him. “Stay here, okay? Stand behind for a bit,” he requested gently, cupping his cheek as he speaks before pressing a light kiss there. Brem leaned into his touch, his eyes closing for a moment before he smiled softly and nodded. 

“Sure thing.” James pulled away and smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before stepping away, pausing for a moment before turning around and moving towards the grave.

He looked back once to make sure Brem is still there, which he was, of course, standing where he had told them to. Brem was curious about what James was planning to do, but stayed faithful to his lover. He was here to support him and didn't want to intrude, after all. 

James seemed to nod to himself before he stands in front of the grave, _her_ grave; Joanne’s grave. "Hey Anne," he starts with, his voice extremely soft and with a tinge of what wasn’t sadness but rather somberness, almost with a tone of finality of sorts. Brem smiles somberly and watches him gently place the white lily down in front of her grave. "It's been...more than 10 years since I've seen you...since I scattered your ashes here..." Brem heard him take in a shaky breath. 

"...As I...built your grave I..I thought I knew for a fact that I would never be able to get over you. I'd never be able to love again. I was already broken when you found me, and when you and Jones were gone, I...the pieces got even smaller, even harder to put back together. For a good amount of time it seemed that I'd never be put back together again..." Brem blinks, once, twice, his mind working to the fact that, first of all, he just said that he _made_ her grave, and second of all, that he had never visited it until now. He felt...even happier that he came along for support. He wanted him to have someone to talk to. He looked down at his hands in respect, not wanting to intrude on this private conversation. If he hadn't been told to stay here, he honestly might have given the two some distance. The very least he could do was try not to purposely eavesdrop on the conversation too much. 

"..But I was wrong."

However, Brem’s eyes shot wide open at those words, his head darting up in shock to look at James, who continued to speak. "I found someone...who, despite such a horrible and awkward meeting, stayed by my side, even through all my shitty antics and my selfish attempts to push him away...even through all the danger that he got dragged into because of me...he still loved...loves me. He still loves me, and I..I love him." Brem watched with wide eyes as James straightened his posture, almost as if to show he was speaking defiantly to someone with high authority.

"I love him. I thought no one would be able to replace the gaping hole you left in me, but I was wrong. You'll never disappear from my heart, and trust me, I...was scared to forget you, of our love...but I learned that it's okay. I learned that I'm not forgetting you by loving someone else. I can tuck you into my heart and remember you, and I will never forget how much I loved you, and how much you loved me, but...but I cannot continue to love you, not in the same way as before, and I think...if I could see you, you'd..chuckle and elbow me in the ribs and tell me that's what you wanted me to do all along. To move on." He saw the way James smiled a bit and wiped at his eyes as he looks down at the grave. He loved the fact that he wasn’t pushing her out of his heart, but rather simply making room for him too. It was truly endearing to them. 

Brem couldn't help but tear up as he listened, giving a soft wet chuckle of his own when James does. He thought he was finished and let him take his time to convey any silent words he didn’t want them to hear before he realized that he wasn’t just yet.

"And I will. I have. The fact that I can say this, that I can overcome all my fears and anxiety of you telling me it's a sin to love again, to remember the true you and see you so clearly...it shows how I've grown, and..he helped me grow." Brem suddenly became curious as James slid a hand down one of his pockets and pulled out a velvet container. His eyes grew wide as he suddenly realized what he was about to do. He clamped his hands over his mouth to stop a gasp from escaping his lips. "And I think it's time. Time to fully accept what has happened, and move on, for not only our son's sake, or mine, but...for the one I now love's sake as well." Brem tightened his grip of his hands against his mouth, left utterly speechless as he watched him open the box to reveal two golden rings. He felt heat pool at the back of his eyes as James stared at the rings for a second before kneeling down and gently placing it right next to the white lily. 

"I don't want the two of us and what happened between us to drag him down. He is so amazing already, and has gone through so much, that this is the least we...I can do, because I love him, and I want to move on with my life with him by my side...if he'll let me." Brem didn’t know how to even begin to describe what he was feeling and was honestly taken off guard when, without looking away from the grave, James moved his hand back and gently intertwined his fingers with his, Brem immediately taking his hand and squeezing it back when he did. He felt so overwhelmed with emotion, but not in a bad way, never in a bad way when it came to James. He loosened his grip when James moved to let go to bow a bit towards the grave.

"I'm sorry, but also...thank you for everything, Anne. I'll never forget you…Goodbye." Brem’s one hand continued to cover his mouth as tears poured down his cheeks. He felt absolutely awestruck as he knew that James had never gotten a chance to say goodbye, that her death had been too quick and too abrupt for any sort of chance at that. He didn’t know what to do as James stared at the grave for a few moments longer, and so all he could do was look at him with teary eyes as he turned around and faced him with a somber but relieved smile. There was a blush on his cheeks as he rubbed the nape of his neck and looked away. "Yeah, um...that's why I, wanted to have you come with me...so that I can properly say everything...s-sorry if it made you uncomfortable, or anything..." He watched him rub his neck and blush, and without any sort of prompt, Brem suddenly moved forward to fling his arms around his shoulders, James letting out a little ‘oof!’ as he did. Brem cupped the back of James’s head with one hand as the other strokes his back. He held onto him as tightly as he could and buried his head into his shoulder. 

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured before tightening his grip around him. _“I love you.”_ There had been a brief pause, James surely having been unsure of what to do for a split second before he wrapped his arms around them and nuzzled into his shoulder. 

_“I love you too_.”


	3. It's My Birthday Today?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a draconic teen finding the fact that his oblivious "friend" doesn't know that today is his birthday utter blasphemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do dragons exist in this otherwise normal world? I dunno lol

“So how  _ do _ your wings work?” Gelasius poked and prodded at the tips of the wings that peeked out of the dragon’s shirt. Drake jolted out of his nap, his wings twitching before pressing against his back as a swear left his lips. He shot a glare at the brunet, but he paid it no mind, of course. “Can you even fly with these?”

“Jesus fucking  _ Christ _ , man, what the fuck’s wrong with you,” Drake snapped as he slipped on his jacket to better hide his wings, though his words had no real bite to it. They both were used to this kind of banter, after all. It had come with whatever the relationship they had established could be called. 

“But what’s the point of wings if you can’t even fly with them?” Gelasius tilted his head, his hand reaching for Drake’s back once more before the dragon promptly slapped his hand away.

“Fuck off,” Drake huffed, adjusting the collar of his jacket as he wiped his eyes of any lingering drowsiness. He didn’t answer Gelasius’s question, but the brunet didn’t push any further on the subject and shrugged.

“I still think they’re cool,” he admitted nonchalantly. It was just a pure fact that wings, even if unfunctional, were still pretty damn cool, but Drake seemed to be embarrassed by the statement of such anyway. 

“Shut up.” He threw his pencil pouch at him, but Gelasius easily caught it. Again, they were used to this banter. Drake liked to throw or shove things whenever he was embarrassed, and Gelasius may or may not find that cute.

The warning bell rang, prompting students to fill the hall as they started moving into their next class. Drake tipped his seat back and stretched his arms. Gelasius may or may not have noticed the slight bulge underneath his jacket stretch a little as well. He was fixated on the movement for a bit before he noticed something else, something a little bit concerning. 

“Ah, your horns are showing.” 

“Hmm?” Drake perked up at that, one of his eyes flicking open to reveal a red pupil with a slitted iris. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes widening as he felt the distinct smooth texture of his small, slightly-curled horns. “Ah, shit, thanks.” Drake rustled through the contents of his beaten-up backpack before he took out a small metallic tin. He unscrewed the lid and took hold of one of the many small white pills inside. He popped one into his mouth and swallowed with ease, and Gelasius watched with slight wonder as Drake’s horns slowly faded out of existence, his pupils darkening to a more natural mahogany color, and his irises turned back to a regular human-circular shape. It was a shame, in Gelasius’s mind, really. He much preferred those snake-like eyes; they were rad as hell. 

“A close one, huh?” Gelasius hummed as he lifted his backpack and slipped it on. 

“I might have forgotten to take them this morning,” Drake shrugged as he too slung his backpack on one shoulder. He flashed a smirk towards the brunet, his fanged teeth showing just a bit. “And if people find out, who’s gonna believe ‘em?” 

“Yeah, only a real lunatic would believe dragons are real, you kidding?” Gelasius responded without missing a beat as he started to head to the door. 

“Yeah, how stupid would that be? What’s next, wizards and fairies?” The two both shared a laugh at that. Gelasius could never think he’d tire of their banter. 

“Wait, are fairies and wizards actually real?” Gelasius looked towards Drake with wide eyes, his footsteps going on autopilot as they both walked to their next class. 

“Wh—Gelasius.” Drake shot him a “are you actually serious” look, absentmindedly turning to the right. 

“What??” 

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

Gelasius gasped and gave the most offended look he could. “How  _ dare _ you speak to your god like that!” Drake rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips were twitching upwards. 

“ _ I _ dare,” he responded, a smug lilt to his words.

“I hope you’re ready to burn in hell after I smite you.” 

“Joke’s on you, I’m already going to hell.” 

“Insolence!” 

The two shared a snicker.

“...But are they actually real?” 

“Gel, seriously.” 

Gelasius still continued to look at him. Drake let out a sigh.

“...Yes, Gelasius. Yes, fairies and wizards exist.” 

He paused to process that before shrugging. “Cool,” Gelasius nodded, satisfied by the answer. 

“How do dragons exist but not fairies or wizards??” Drake cocked his eyebrows.

“I dunno, maybe dragons are just that cool.” 

Drake blushed at that. 

~*~

Unfortunately, they didn’t have all of their classes together. The poor god had to be separated from his worshipper as the dragon went to the depths of hell called calculus and Gelasius got to stay up in the heavens called study hall. 

When they met back at their usual place outside of school, he wasn’t expecting him to be marching right up to him and grabbing his collar. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me it was your fucking birthday??”

Gelasius blinked. “It’s my birthday, today?” He tilted his head in genuine confusion. Drake did a double-take, his eyes darting up and down at the idiot before him.

“Don’t fucking play dumb! What do you mean ‘it’s my birthday’?! I saw it on my teacher’s laptop when she was out!” Oh yeah, his calculus teacher was Gelasius’s geometry teacher, whom he has just before Drake has calculus. She might have mentioned it to him, but he probably had been far too busy dissociating to have really noticed. 

The brunet shrugged. “I don’t really celebrate my birthdays,” he admitted before he started to realize something. “Actually, did I even know it was my birthday last year..?” He tried for a few seconds to conjure up any memories of his previous birthday but gave up on the thought and impassively lifted his shoulders. “As far as I know, I’ve been like, five for quite a while now.” Drake gave him an unamused look for a good few seconds before his expression morphed into something of annoyed disbelief. He slowly let go of him. 

“Fuck, really? You don’t celebrate your birthday at all??” Gelasius nodded, not understanding what all the fuss was. It was just another day in the year, wasn’t it? 

Drake seemed to ponder the thought for a moment before he walked towards him and suddenly grabbed his wrist. Gelasius gave him a look of complete bafflement. “Wha--??” Drake huffed and started pulling him away at a rather brisk pace, and the feeling of Drake’s hand overlapping with his made the brunet’s mind short circuit. “Where are we--”

“We’re changing that, right now,” Drake cut him off. He said nothing more as he practically dragged him out. 

~*~

“Where are we going?”

After dropping off their stuff at Gelasius’s place, the brunet found himself with a blindfold over his eyes that prevented him from seeing wherever the hell Drake was dragging him to. He’d much rather find out where he was being kidnapped to than focus on the warmth of Drake’s hand holding his. 

“You’ll find out.” The dragon gave no satisfying answer. 

“Drakeee…” he whined but got no response from him.

Eventually, after a good amount of time passed, Gelasius planted his feet on the ground and gave the dragon a serious look, or at least as much as one as he could give blindfolded anyway. “Drake, where are we going?” To his mild surprise, however, Drake actually did something. His  warm hand left his own for a moment before a soft, lopsided grin greeted his vision as the blindfold was slipped off of him. 

“Here we are.” Drake stepped back and gestured overdramatically to whatever was behind him, which, it turned out, was a festival. 

“Oh.”

Drake positioned himself to stand beside Gelasius. “You don’t like it?” 

Slowly, Gelasius stepped forward, into the festive lights. As if possessed by something, his hand reached out and brushed against one of the lanterns. It had been...quite a while since he last went to any sort of festival. Faded memories that should have been long forgotten resurface ever so slightly, the sound of laughter echoing in his ears as he remembers lights and sounds and food and fireworks. He turns around to face Drake.

The dragon had never seen him look so unabashedly happy before. 

~*~

Gelasius swears these kinds of games are rigged. He throws his second ball as hard as he can, but the milk bottles won’t even  _ budge _ . The man behind the booth merely smirks, which doesn’t make the brunet feel any better, especially not when Drake lets out a snicker beside him. 

“Need some help there, Gel?” The dragon uses a hard G this time around when during his first try he had used a soft G. The booth man looked a little confused at the change. Gelasius wished it made him angrier. He looks at his last ball, deeply contemplating the pros and cons before, almost begrudgingly, he repents the ball to him. 

“I don’t think this puny game is worth a God’s effort.”

Drake snorts at that. “Sure, whatever you say, my god~” He steps away and winds his arm back. Gelasius doesn’t believe for a second he could do better than him. 

He knocks all the bottles in one go. 

Gelasius is definitely not sulking as Drake presses a stuffed animal to his face. Definitely not. Gods don’t sulk. 

Just to prove it, he takes the prize when Drake offers it. “A birthday present,” he says. Birthdays don’t really mean anything, Gelasius wants to say. 

But he doesn't say it. He must be a gracious god; it’s one of his frustrating but charitable acts he’s vowed to enact. He’s keeping it, though. All gods need some sort of sacrifice, after all. 

He thinks he’ll name it Niko. 

~*~

Gelasius’s eyes glittered at the sight of the fresh cheesecake that was served along with some other pastries that don’t even come close to mattering as much as the delicacy in front of him. He whipped his head towards Drake, who only barked out a laugh and nodded. “Go ‘head, it’s your birthday after all.”

Gelasius skips the whole “birthdays don’t matter” spiel and immediately buys it. He doesn’t notice the broad, beaming grin painted on his lips before he started stuffing his face with his all-time favorite food. Drake might have noticed, though.

Gelasius pouted at him when he refused to buy him a third slice. He had eaten  _ way  _ more before, all that bullshit about stomach aches was never going to happen to him, a god!

Though he supposed he would let this and only this go. For today. 

~*~

Night quickly came around. He and Drake sat on a nearby hill, watching the fireworks as they came and went. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Well, I wanted to, and it’s your birthday, so.” Drake shrugged. There was a pause before much quietly: “Everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday.” Gelasius turned his head at that. He wasn’t that big on picking up tone or whatever, but even he noticed there were deeper implications to that statement. 

Instead of asking, though, he merely said, at the same time as a firework going off: “When’s your birthday?”

“Hmm?” Drake obviously didn’t hear him, his eyes still fixed on the fading lights in the sky. They glittered with the sparkling lights in front of him, and Gelasius had to consciously stop himself from staring. 

“When’s your birthday?”

That caught his attention. Drake blinked and looked back down towards Gelasius, who gave him nothing more than a blank expression. Red eyes flickered over brown with specks of green and gold before: “July 4th.”

“Seriously?” 

Drake scowled, his fingers twitching as if he wished there was something he could throw at him. Luckily, Niko was sitting on Gelasius’s lap, so he couldn’t be used as collateral. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask to be born on that day.”

There was a brief pause of silence. “I’ll do something for you for your birthday.” Drake’s eyes grew wide at his proclamation, like he hadn’t been expecting that at all. 

“Ah...you don’t have to.” He suddenly sounded very reluctant. Why?

“Didn’t you just say everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday?”

Drake ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t want a celebration if you’re only doing it to pay me back, man.”

Gelasius frowned. “That’s not why I’ll do it.”

Red eyes suddenly flickered into his line of sight. “...Then why?”

That...was a good question. Gelasius blinked. “Because you’re my friend.”

Drake opened his mouth, then closed it. “Are we...friends?”

Gelasius didn’t know how to react to that. Of course they were friends. It was always implied between the two of them, but he supposed this was the first time they’ve said it aloud, or rather,  _ he’s _ said it aloud. 

His face turned blank and he looked back towards the dark sky being illuminated by more fireworks. “I mean...I think so.” A pause. Then, quieter: “If you think so, anyway, I guess.” Drake studied him for a moment before looking back at the fireworks himself.

“Yeah, I’d like to think we’re friends.”

“Cool.”

“Yup.”

Silence befell them for a moment before Gelasius blurted out, “I’m still definitely a god you worship, at least.” That brought a small smirk to Drake’s face, and the brunet suddenly felt grateful for a lot of things. 

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Good.”

They fell back into a much more comfortable silence and watched the remaining fireworks go off in peace. 

If Drake moved his hand and it just so happened to brush against his, Gelasius had no complaints. 

Today had been the best birthday he’s ever had.


	4. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair is used to being hypnotized, what with being a magician's assistant and all. But said magician—also his boyfriend—has been wearing himself thin. Perhaps it's time for _him_ to get some sleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small note that Alistair is genderfluid and Ace/Alex is trans! TW for nightmares and insomnia

Alistair knew what he had to do, he just didn’t like  _ doing  _ it. Or starting it, anyway. 

But Ace really looked like he was going to run himself ragged before he was to succumb to rest, and it was really tearing Alistair up to see him like that. 

So, he had gotten something special that had caught his eye on the last they stopped by on. He had been—and still is, frankly—a bit skeptical about the pendant and its authenticity; he had learned that merchants could be rather untrustworthy, and he couldn’t afford to be scammed when what he was buying had the potential to harm Ace if he didn’t use it correctly.

So Alistair had tested it out in his free time, on some kind volunteers and himself, and it seemed that the pendant of the necklace he had gotten was indeed enchanted to have people fall into hypnosis way easier, which was what he felt like Ace needed at this point with so many days without sleep. Alistair had run dry of options, and he couldn’t stand to see his loved one suffering so much. 

So, while Alistair watched the magician pace back and forth in his room for the umpteenth time, he decided that he couldn’t stand seeing him like this anymore.

Slowly, he stood up from the bed he had been sitting on listening to Ace’s incoherent rambling and finally confronted him. 

“Ace, this has gone on long enough,” he stated firmly, eyes determinedly set on his golden ones. Ace blinked, bewildered for a moment like it took him a second to realize that Alistair was standing in front of him. 

“Oh—uh, I guess I’ve been rambling for a while, huh?” He runs a hand through his hair and tries to laugh it off, but Alistair can hear the exhaustion that tinges the undertone of his voice. 

“No Ace, you need sleep,” Alistair stated. Ace froze at that before he quickly recomposes himself and gave the alien a weak grin that was meant to be reassuring, but he could tell that it was a little exasperated. 

“C’mon Stair, we had this talk already.” He was trying hard to cut this off quickly, but Alistair refused to budge on this. 

“No Alex,” he shook his head, “the exhaustion is really taking a toll on you, and I...I can’t bear to continue seeing you like this.” Ace’s expression shifts through a plethora of emotions before it eventually settles on a mixture of annoyance, frustration, and fatigue. 

“Well I just can’t sleep, okay?” he snapped, irritability getting the better of him. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t go a few seconds of closing my eyes without—without—I just  _ can’t _ , Alistair.” His golden eyes were quite close to being glassy by the time he finished. Alistair softened, his hands gently coming up to cup his boyfriend’s cheeks. 

“Alex…” Ace hesitantly leaned into the touch and closed his eyes with a shaky sigh before opening them to gaze at Alistair with a sad, almost pleading look.

“M’sorry for snapping at you, Stair...” he mumbled apologetically, voice slurring ever so slightly with exhaustion. 

Alistair shook his head lightly. “It’s okay Ace, I understand,” he responded sincerely, thumb gently rubbing soothing circles against his cheeks. “I just want to help you…” Ace’s eyes slowly slipped close again, this time a few seconds longer before he shivered and let them flutter open. 

“You can’t,” he whispered, almost mournfully, “but I appreciate the offer…” Alistair’s eyes lit up just a little. 

“But I can,” he countered, mentally steeling himself for what he was about to do. 

Confusion overtook Ace’s features. “How?” Alistair’s grip on his face tightened ever so slightly before one of his hands fell away to reach into his pocket. The magician’s eyes only confusedly followed it before they grew very wide at the sight of not the golden chain but the large  **blue** pendant that hung from it. As soon as it caught his eye, he was immediately drawn in, its  **blue** hue reminding him of Alistair’s own eyes. 

Alistair slowly brought the pendant up to Ace’s eye-level, the brunet’s gaze still locked onto jt. Something at the back of his mind tingled with alarms, and he tensed as he began to realize what Alistair was doing. 

“You remember the safe word, don’t you?” Alistair asked, though it sounded like he was imploring, his tone gentle and sincere. 

“I—, hocus pocus…” Ace mumbled, eyes still transfixed to the pendant.

“That’s right,” his gaze turned soft. He gently moved his other hand still on his cheek up to pet Ace’s hair, the touch making his shoulders relax ever so slightly, though it was clear that he was still rather tense. “Do you want to use it then?”

“I…” he trailed off, biting his lip. Alistair could tell Ace wasn’t exactly thrilled about what he was about to do to him, but he didn’t seem to completely reject the idea. 

“If you ever feel too uncomfortable, just say the safe word,” he murmured softly, brushing some stray strands of his dark hair away from his face. “But you need some rest, Alex...you’re already so  _ tired _ .” He emphasized that last word by lightly shifting the pendant, the light glinting against Ace’s wide golden eyes and making him lean forward ever so slightly. The brunet wasn't exactly sure about this...but, he didn't feel the extreme need to use the safe word just yet. Alistair wasn't like  **them** , he...he made him feel safe. He wasn't going to hurt him; Alistair loved him, and Ace...Alex loved him back... _ he trusted him.  _

Alistair felt relief and a sense of endearment well up in him as he could visibly see his lover make a conscious effort to relax, his shoulders slowly lowering and his body slumping forward ever so slightly. His gaze was still locked on the pendant, even when it started to become half-lidded with drowsiness. If the alien thought he looked tired before, he definitely looked  _ exhausted  _ now, the darkness under his eyes becoming a lot more prominent. 

“That's good, you're doing so so good, Ace…” Even though his voice wasn't skilled in the hypnotic tone that the hypnotist always used, he tried his best to be soothing anyway. Little did he know that the familiar gentleness of his voice was more than enough to lull Ace further into his spell. The brunet leaned forward once more, his eyes following the slow rhythm of the pendant go back and forth, back and forth… 

The one thing he never told anyone and that only a few knew was that being a hypnotist himself actually made him a lot more susceptible to hypnosis—to some degree. It definitely helped him recognize if he was being hypnotized and thereby far easier to snap out of it, but if he were to consent to being hypnotized—which he practically was right now—then it was so much easier to fall deeper when you already know the words, when you already know the process and can practically imagine yourself falling as the pretty little pendant swung back and forth...back and forth….

“Back and forth, Ace...watching the nice pendant swing back and forth...” His thoughts were quickly blending in with Alistair’s words and his soft, loving tone, or perhaps his thoughts were already only his words; he was too busy watching the pendant swing to think about it. 

“Every time the pendant swings to the right, you can feel yourself slowly sinking deeper and deeper into trance, letting your worries and anxieties fade away,” Alistair murmured, his blue eyes intently staring at Ace to make sure he was okay at all times. Only when he saw his golden eyes gradually grow duller and duller each time the pendant swung to the right did he continue. “And every time it swings to the left, you feel your body growing heavier and heavier, your mind sleepier and sleepier…” To be honest, Alistair definitely had his doubts about the authenticity of this magic pendant, but he definitely wasn't displeased in any way as he saw his lover’s eyes start to flutter with the effort of keeping his eyes open. He was so,  _ so _ tired. For once he didn't think about any potential nightmares. He just wanted to close his heavy, heavy eyes, but he couldn't; he had to keep looking at the shiny pendant, keep listening to Alistair’s sweet, sweet voice...

Alistair continued to swing the pendant back and forth. He wasn't sure when Ace would be deep enough, but he guessed he was ready when he saw his eyelids start to droop for a few seconds before slowly fluttering open and then quickly drooping again. “Okay Ace, when I snap my fingers, you're going to close your eyes and drop into a nice, deep trance for me, okay?” Alistair wasn't sure if he was saying the right things; it was hard to remember what Ace would say when he was in this position as he was always too far gone to consciously remember anything he was saying at that point. He could only during that single moment, and he was relieved to see Ace slightly nodding, a very small trickle of drool starting to roll down the corner of his lips. Alistair had to suppress a giggle before he readied his hand. 

“Nice and sleepy, heavy, and so ready to fall into a nice trance in 3...2…” As soon as he snapped his fingers, Ace’s eyes immediately fluttered shut and his limp body fell forward, right into his lover’s warm and safe arms. Alistair shifted his position to adjust to his weight, but overall he was rather relieved and happy that things seemed to work. One arm supported Ace’s weight while the other slowly stroked his back and hair. 

He  _ was _ honestly rather surprised by how easily he went down, but he decided that would be best questioned later. He had absolutely no intentions nor even the desire to do anything more than let his boyfriend have a nice long time to sleep without any nightmares plaguing him, especially not when he had been so clearly hesitant in the beginning. He did consent, as he purposely did not use the safe word, and it touched him that Ace really trusted him that much that he let himself be vulnerable like this to him. 

“When I...no,” Alistair quickly tried to amend his wording, “the next time, and only the next time, I kiss you on the forehead, you'll fall into a deep, deep sleep,  _ real _ sleep, with absolutely no nightmares or worries to plague you.” Alistair suppressed the urge to bite his lip and hoped that Ace got that this was only a one-time thing; he didn't want to implant any triggers or anything, not without his consent. He could only trust that he did and continued. “When you wake up, not only will you feel really good and refreshed, but you'll also be able to remember this whole session, even what I'm saying right now.” Again, he didn't want him panicking nor break his trust in any way, shape, or form. He didn’t know what he’d do if he did. 

He let the words take root in Ace’s mind for a few seconds before slowly pushing his body so that he had access to his forehead. He brushed away a few strands of his hair from his forehead and pressed a soft, affectionate kiss to it. It was slight, but he could feel Ace’s body go even limper than it was before. Alistair smiled softly and nuzzled his nose against his. “Good night, Alex. I hope you sleep well…” 

He stayed sitting with Ace’s body completely leaning against him for a few minutes, his hand absentmindedly stroking his hair as he let his head rest on his shoulder. He always enjoyed these quiet moments with his love so close to him. Alex was always exceptionally warm.

After a while, he decided to let him rest in a proper position. With a little bit of struggling, Alistair was able to carry Ace “bridal-style” into his bedroom. He carefully laid him on the plush bed before pulling the covers over him. He placed another gentle kiss on his cheek this time, before slowly slipping away and closing the door behind him. Ace was definitely not going to wake any time soon if things went well, so he supposed he should take care of things until then. 

As if on cue, the communicator resting against his hip angrily buzzed. He already knew it was Nagi before he even saw the caller. He sighed and nodded. There was still work to be done, and he was prepared to do it if it meant Ace could finally get a break. 

“Hell—?” He cringed away at the loud yelling that immediately filled the speaker. “I—I know, I—Nagi—I know, I got,  _ I got him to sleep _ .” The voice stopped yelling, letting the alien breathe a sigh of relief as his ears got a moment of peace. “Yes, really, I—no, no Nagi, I didn’t drug him!” He sighed. “Where are you? I just left Ace’s room, so I’ll meet you in—yeah, I’ll meet you in the living room. See you there.” 


	5. The Date was Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Drake finds shelter from the cold, reminiscing over warmer memories before encountering something...or perhaps someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for homelessness?

The date was 241X. One year after Lòng’s death. Drake was fifteen years old.

Christmas morning. The first Christmas without his little brother ferociously shaking him awake. The first Christmas without his mom chiding him about not getting presents while his brother got all of them. The first Christmas without his aunt scolding him for cursing in front of his brother. 

The first Christmas without a home, too. 

He hadn’t meant to scare the kid that was now in front of him, cowering against a wall as if he was some sort of  _ monster _ . It just, happened.

He had been out in the cold, the freezing, windy, chilly cold. He had only been out on his own for a few months, give or take. Surprisingly, he had been doing quite well for himself. Turns out gang fights and jumping between buildings for fun were quite beneficial when you’re trying to get by without a home. He and “Wolfgang” always stole the occasional handful of sweets, had competitions to see who could steal the most without getting caught. Drake almost always won those bets, and now that experience was really paying off in his homeless life.

But now winter was in full swing, which meant he couldn’t sleep in alleyways anymore, not else he risked dying of the cold in his sleep. There weren’t many places to steal warm clothes from since dragons usually got warmth through fire or by staying close together if you were a family. Drake didn’t have a family anymore, though, or at least he refused to go back to his aunt’s house, not with Lòng no longer there to greet him, and there was no way in hell he was going to his grandfather’s place, if he hasn’t kicked the fucking bucket yet. 

So yeah, he was basically without a family to rely for warmth. It wasn’t like he fucking deserved one, anyway.

Still, he didn’t like the prospect of his death being caused by something as lame as the cold, so instead he decided to find  _ some _ form of warmth, and because it would be weird as fuck to huddle against some random stranger, he decided the only option left was shelter.

That was how he had stumbled upon an abandoned home. Drake had noticed the flickers of a fire roaring inside, and with the sun already starting to set and his instincts screaming at him to get out of the snow more than it screamed about cautino, he couldn’t resist the temptation of a warm fireplace.

So he had found an unlocked window and slipped in. It wasn’t like anyone actively lived in the house, not in the state of decay it was in both inside and out.

As soon as his weathered shoes fell to the dusty ground, however, a mixture of what sounded like a scream and a yowl immediately set him on edge, instincts flaring and making him bare his sharpened teeth and split tongue in the direction of whatever the fuck made that sound. It was dark in the house, darker than he had thought with the fire not being able to light up a good majority of the large room he was situated in, or perhaps it felt that way because he had been out in the fucking light all day.

His glowing red eyes shifted left and right to scan the area for any movement, his lips still pulled back into a snarl.

And that was when he heard the sound of something hitting against the wall, his now sharpened senses thanks to his instincts rising allowing him to see better in the darkened house that wasn’t lit up by the fire rumbling to his side. His eyes darted towards it, his knees bending and a low growl emanated from the depths of his throat. Whoever was here, Drake was  _ not _ going to let them take away his only source of warmth, at least not without a fight. Being a dragon, you’d think he’d be able to produce his own source of warmth, but without any source of training, he didn’t exactly trust himself  _ not _ to burn the entire house with him if he even tried, and he didn’t exactly feel like losing this only source of warmth for him.

But, when his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, his instincts immediately dissipated and his usually warm blood ran ice cold.

It was a kid, a fucking  _ child _ . He, she,  _ they _ regarded him fearfully, and probably rightfully so; even at fifteen,  Drake was a good 5’9, and the kid couldn’t be any taller than 4’, if even that. 

It sucked how much they reminded him of Lòng.

A low  _ hiss _ grabbed his attention again, though. His gaze travelled down to the kid’s arms, which held a black cat that eyed him rather fiercely. Drake’s eyes flickered from the fire to the kid. Their clothes were torn and ragged, but there wasn’t any show of snow or dampened spots on it, so did that mean this kid lived here??

“Lebst du hier?” he asked, straightening his position from his previous defensive one. The kid only whimpered and pressed their back against the wall more, the cat letting out a yowl and intimidating hiss as well. Okay, so probably German was a no go, and Drake would definitely be shocked if they spoke Chinese with them being in this part of Gorgon, so then…

“Do you live here?” he tried again in English. The dragon felt a slight relief wash over him when the kid seem to have understood him this time. A shake of their head was given to him, so he continued to so-called conversation in English. 

“Do you...have a home, then?” Another shake of their head, their blonde hair an utter mess as they did so. “A-are you going to hurt us?” they asked quietly, and Drake was put off by how  _ scared _ they sounded, along with the fact that they had said “us”.

“Well—” One lock into their wide teary eyes and Drake sighed. Fuck. “No, but is someone with you?” Because if so, then that meant he was probably gonna have to dash or fight someone not as nice (or easily scared, same thing) as this kid, and he really didn’t think he could bear to put up fists in front of them. The innocence practically radiating from them reminded him too much of Lòng and how he had always looked up to him and  _ fuck _ it really was his first Christmas without him wasn’t it??

Drake had to quickly cut off his train of thought or else he really would start fucking  _ crying _ in front of this kid. Thankfully, the kid shaking their head snapped him out of the mess he was only starting to get too deep to. 

“I-it’s just me and Mr. Whiskers,” they muttered quietly. Drake blinked, a moment taken to actually process their words before he couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. The cat, of course it was the fucking cat. He let out another series of giggles when the cat hissed at him again, somehow able to pick up that he was laughing about it.

“Cool, cool, just wondering,” he hummed, then shivered. His wings, hidden by a raggedy jacket pressed to his back, and he looked back towards the open window that had been his entrance. His head darted back towards the kid, who too shivered from the chill. Drake didn’t hesitate to close the window shut, and a sigh of relief escaped the two of them. Drake glanced around the room, chewing on his lip a bit before he sighed and put his gaze back towards the kid. 

“Would you...mind if I stayed here for the night?” he asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flickered to the suddenly-interesting ground. To his surprise, however, the kid seemed to brighten up at his question when he reluctantly looked back up. 

“Ye-yeah! We like company.” The cat hissed and pawed—but did not use its claws, Drake noticed—at the kid. “Well, Mr. Whiskers can be a bit shy around strangers,” they shifted their grip around the cat, “but I’m sure he’ll warm up to you! It’s..Christmas, after all.” Drake’s heart twisted at the reminder, but, well, he supposed the first Christmas without his brother (and without a home too, he guessed) could be a lot worse.

So he walked over to the fire and eased himself to sit, wincing as his bones ached and groaned from having to walk and run in the cold for the entirety of the day until now. So was the life of being homeless, he was learning. 

The kid soon shuffled over to him, eyeing him almost nervously as they sat criss-cross a few feet away from him but still near the fire nonetheless. They lay the cat down into their lap, the feline immediately making itself home in their lap. They eyed Drake with that look of total suspicion and contempt, and it took all of his willpower not to snort. He perked up when he noticed them shuffle closer to him, the kid’s eyes shifty and obviously trying not to draw attention. Drake glanced towards them with an amused smirk, but he didn’t say anything and looked back towards the fire.

They shifted closer. He still didn’t say anything. They scooted more obviously, but Drake continued to act like he didn’t notice. Eventually, the kid was right beside him, and though Drake’s eyes had momentarily flickered over him bemused, he supposed he didn’t mind their closeness. They were both kids without a home, after all.

For a while, the time peacefully passed, no sounds but the occasional crackle of the fire and a low purr from the cat. Drake was close to dozing when he heard a sudden growl-like rumble that made him jolt awake. His instincts would have flared up in alarm had he not recognized what kind of sound that was, having heard it one too many times himself.

He couldn’t stop the knowing smirk on his lips as he glanced to his side and saw the kid with a bright blush on their cheeks. Drake snickered, but then paused. When was the last time that kid ate, actually? He voiced the question aloud, the kid perking up at it before slowly deflating. Their eyes avoiding his and the way they looked pained was more than enough to answer his question. 

“...Ah…” Drake mumbled. He himself had scored some stolen dinner beforehand, so he wasn’t hungry, but… “Here.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a red apple. It had been the freshest fruit he was able to steal, straight from the rich district. He had been saving it for days, when the trash didn’t have shit, but...he felt like this kid needed it more than he ever would. They eyed it with awe before looking up at Drake worriedly.

“Are you sure..?” they mumbled. Drake scoffed. They didn’t question where he had gotten it, or if it had been poisoned. They really deserved it more than he did. 

“Yeah, call it a Christmas gift,” he shrugged, gently tossing it into their grasp. They caught it with both of their hands, which were surprisingly small compared to his own, he realized. Their eyes sparkled as they regarded the red fruit, but they then looked up at him with a troubled gaze once more.

“But...I didn’t get anything for you.” Drake’s eyes grew wide at their words, memories flashing through his eyes at the familiarity of them.

_ “But I didn’t get anything for you, großer bruder…” _

_ “Yeah, well, just take it and shut up okay?? ‘Course you can’t get anything for me, where would you get the money?” _

_ “But, Auntie is the one that earns money…” _

_ “...Do you want your present or not, idiot?? ‘Cause I can gladly take it for myself.” _

_ “No!! No, I like it, I like it a lot! I just...wish I could give you something in return, großer bruder…” _

_ “Yeah, well, Mama wanted me to get something for you, so whatever.” _

_ “I love it! Thanks, großer bruder.” _

_ “Hey, get your fucking hand off me!” _

_ “I’ll get you something for next Christmas, I promise!”  _

_ “...Yeah, yeah, cool, whatever.” _

“Mister?? M-Mister!” Drake jolted out of the flashback, his eyes darting towards the kid who looked up at him with concern and slight panic. They were on their knees now, and the cat wa snow beside them, looking at Drake with a dirty glare for having ruined their spot. “A-are you okay, Mister??” they asked. Drake managed a nod.

“Yeah—” he winced at the crack in his voice and cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” They frowned.

“But you’re crying…” Drake paused and brought a hand up to his eyes. Fuck, he really was crying. 

“Seriously, I’m okay,” he tried to reassure, quick to wipe away the tears. “Just—yeah, I’m fine.” Once his tears were dried, he couldn’t help the weak snort that escaped his mouth at the worried look the kid was giving him. He didn’t mean for his hand to pet their frizzy hair, but it did before he couldn’t stop himself, but the kid didn’t seem to mind, so he just rolled with it. “If you’re happy with the apple, then that’s all I really need,” he assured sincerely.  He didn’t want to make the same mistake again. The way the kid fucking  _ beamed _ was more than enough compensation, and he quietly watched with a small grin as the kid eagerly ravished the apple. 

He glanced towards the window, which reflected the night sky. As he glanced back towards the kid and the way their face lit up with joy at the juiciness of the apple, he decided that perhaps there was something to this sharing and giving thing.

~~~

The date was 242X. Two years after Lòng’s death. Drake was 16 years old.

“Merry Christmas, kid.” Drake handed the white plastic bag full of an assortment of food he had stolen. His stealing skills had done much improvement since the last year, and he had grown taller, not by too much but enough for him to have to crouch almost fully to be eye-level with the kid. They never exchanged names, but really, they didn’t need to; “Mister” and “kid” were enough, and Drake realized the kid didn’t like to talk much after meeting with them so many times. “I think this should be enough for you today,” he chuckled as Mr. Whiskers gave him a huffy look as he petted it. The kid, on the other hand, looked at him with utter wonder and gratitude. They were still wearing the green hoodie and skirt that Drake had gotten them a month or so ago, and their hair was tied in sloppy twin ponytails now.

Drake was actually starting to feel embarrassment from the way they were looking at him with such reverence, so he hastily added, “Don’t tell anyone I gave this to you, ‘cos I can’t explain how I got it.” They giggled and nodded, swearing their secrecy, though they already had in idea where he had gotten it from. 

Drake gave one last ear scratch to the cat before he eased himself back up. “Well, I gotta go, got other gifts to deliver and shi—stuff.” He had become something akin to Santa around this place, but he much preferred to be seen as someone like, a Robin Hood. But with it being Christmas time, he supposed he would have to stick with fat ol’ Santa Claus until the holidays end. 

Just before he was about to turn to leave, the kid shifted the cat to hold their Christmas present before moving to tackle Drake in a hug. It caught him off guard, but he quickly melted into the hug and gently squeezed his arms around the kid.

“Catch you later kid,” he grinned when they pulled away from the hug. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” They beamed and waved goodbye. Drake chuckled and waved back before pulling his hoodie further over his head and heading out of the alleyway.


	6. A Good Night's Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur isn't a stranger to nightmares, but it's the first time he's wanted to get rid of them. He can't very well ask the person he's trying to hide his nightmares from, so the only choice he has left is that person's father...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for nightmares, hypnosis, and insomnia! Also Arthur is a nephilim (half-angel half-human)

Arthur’s enclosed fist hesitated right in front of the wooden door. Was this—really a good idea? He really didn’t want to impose, and what if Joker woke up? What was he going to say?? The whole reason he didn’t want to go to him in the first place is because he didn’t want him to  _ know _ he’d been having troubles sleeping, that he’d been having recurring nightmares for the past week or so. He knew there was only so long before the dark circles under his eyes would force Joker’s hand into confronting him, and he had already asked about it, multiple times. 

It wasn’t like this was his first time having nightmares. He’d definitely had them before, bits and pieces of his mother’s abuse when he was a child that either was twisted in some way or were melded into more recent memories, but this was the first time he was experiencing nightmares that he knew had been  _ real.  _ Joker almost dying, his own near-death experiences, they all tangled and mixed with multiple other bad memories, creating a hell that woke him up almost every night for the past few days now. He yearned to be with Joker, to just one day go up to his bedroom and both hold him close and  _ be _ held close by him. He thought about it, fantasized whenever he desperately tried to sleep on his own, but it was getting to a point where it was no longer working. He was running out of options and fast, so this was the only one he could think of that didn’t involve Joker. He just hoped that he was asleep at this time; he wasn't sure what he was going to do if  _ he _ was the one who answered the door, and he tensed in anticipation as the doorknob jostled before the door opened.

He breathed a quiet sigh through his lips as relief washed over him at the sight of a tall man with dark hair looking down at him. “Ah, Arthur,” James gave him a tired but warm grin. It once had always been wary, but he had dropped in enough times for Arthur to gain some semblance of trust with him. “It’s nice to see you. What brings you here?” 

“Hello James, sorry for dropping in so late,” Arthur returned the grin with an apologetic one. It always made him feel bad to come so late at night, but he had learned that James was both usually up until very late at night and a light sleeper. 

He opened his lips to explain the reason behind his visit but hesitated, casting his gaze off to the side. “I, well…” He could feel his hand come up to clutch at his other arm absentmindedly—a nervous quirk he picked up since young.

“Did something happen??” Arthur’s eyes grew wide and his head perked up to meet with James’s when he looked down at him with panicked eyes. The older man’s body was tense, like he was ready to run the moment Arthur spoke again.

“No! No, nothing bad,” he waved his hands and immediately tried to dispel the worry. He hadn’t realized that his words and actions could have conveyed a different meaning, and really, that in and of itself was a testament to how he, a behavior analyst, was really not in the best shape. He heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair, another nervous tick of his. “I just, really, haven’t been sleeping well and”—he dug his nails into his head to keep him grounded, stop him from chickening out—”I...I would really like your help..i-if you—if that’s o-okay.” He had to consciously stop his gaze from going to the ground once more, his eyes flickering a little before wavering over James when he saw his body visibly relax.

“I see.” Arthur could hear the relief breathe through his words. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“It’s alright, I see, um, how my words could have been misinterpreted,” he cut him off with assurance. A smile curled back onto James’s lips, easing the both of them.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to help.” He stepped back from the door and held it open for him. “Please, come in.” Arthur felt his shoulders slump (he didn’t even know he was tensing them up) and gave a soft “thank you” before walking in, making sure to take off his shoes and place them right beside Joker’s beat-up sneakers (there was practically a spot made just for them, at this point).

James led him to the couch, slowly easing his way for a seat before waiting patiently for Arthur to sit wherever he wished. He sat near the edge, implicitly giving Arthur the choice to either sit close by if he wished or farther if he wasn’t uncomfortable. It was subtle things like this that the brunet really appreciated, a small grin curling onto his lips before he sat down beside the noiret. They had known each other for quite some time now, and Arthur trusted him enough to feel comfortable being close to him, which was quite something, considering his past trauma, but he was making progress, he was getting better. He couldn’t have done it without Joker or James, really.

“So, were you thinking about having me hypnotize you to ease your sleeping problems?” James asked. Arthur gave a curt nod.

“Yes, I was hoping maybe a hypnosis..session? Instead of your powers, maybe? Could help with my nightmares…” he explained, yet felt a slight doubt start to curl up within him. He didn’t actually know what a “real” hypnosis session consisted of, or what it could do when it wasn’t of the magic kind.

He was quickly pulled back into reality when he heard a light chuckle. “You don’t have to look that skeptical,” James joked, clearly not offended by the warm smile dancing on his lips. Arthur nonetheless felt surprised for having been noticed before immediate guilt welled up in his stomach. He bowed his head a little in slight shame. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, which caught James slightly off guard before he let out a small huff of a chuckle and ruffled Arthur’s hair (he did so with the clear intent to be gentle, again another subtle gesture that made Arthur feel warm). The fatherly gesture made the brunet’s eyes widen just a bit.

“Don’t worry about it,” the therapist assured, his voice warm and caring in a way. “Everyone’s always skeptical about hypnosis when they’re not technically magical powers...and almost everyone doesn’t believe that, too.” He gave a soft chuckle and slowly withdrew his hand from his brown curls of hair, and Arthur has to consciously stop himself from whining at the withdrawal of warmth. There was a pause, James’s golden eyes meeting with Arthur’s blue ones before he asked, “So...would you like to try that?” Arthur couldn’t lie, he did hesitate, but he nodded slowly.

“And, you’re not, using your hypnosis magic?” he asked reluctantly, quietly, feeling shame build up inside him once more before the reassuring smile that grew onto James’s lips quelled it. He always had that kind of effect on not just him, but most of the people around him, Arthur realized.

“No magic, just words and the human brain doing its thing.” He paused. “Well, I’m pretty sure half-angel brains work in this context too.” Arthur let out a soft huff of a laugh at that, and James smiled, happy that his joke worked. 

“Then...If it’s alright with you?” he nodded, rested his hands on his lap, posture still straight, almost stiff from years of being taught to sit this way as well as the habitual feeling of never being able to relax or show any signs of burden. He did feel some tension in his body fall away, however, when he was with James, assured by both how long he’s known him and how his constant reassurance that he won’t yell or beat him for not having his knees bent at a ninety-degree angle whenever he sat or not speaking in a formal manner. It was...nice, being able to have a safe place as well as someone he felt safe with, especially with his secret heritage that not even he knew about until recently. He did have Joker, he knew that he was also someone he felt safe with, but...James always made him feel safe in his own, almost..fatherly way, and Arthur never had anyone like that. 

“‘Course it’s alright with me,” James responded, his casual language also making Arthur relax even more, though he did tense up again when James frowned a little. “However, I’m sure you know that this probably won’t last for a long time, not unless you keep coming back for multiple sessions.” Arthur tightened his grip around his arm and nodded slowly. He did, he knew. He had done his research beforehand, and he knew that this wasn’t going to offer a permanent solution, but...it was all he got. He wasn’t going to ask James to give him multiple sessions, he didn’t want to be a burden, nor did he think he could keep it a secret from Joker for that long; he was also pretty sure James wouldn’t want to keep a secret from him either. 

So he gave a quiet nod. “I know it won’t,” he admits, “but...if it can work for at least some time, I’d be really grateful.” He closed his eyes and briefly bit down on his lip. “And..if you could not tell Joker about this...I’d really appreciate that too.” He hesitantly glanced over to James, who gazed at him for a good moment before he nodded and gave a small, almost sympathetic grin.

“Of course Arthur, I won't tell,” he agreed, much to Arthur’s relief. He then shifted from his seat on the couch “Alright then, why don’t you lay down on your back and we’ll start?” he suggested as Arthur realized he had shifted to offer him the space to lie down. The brunet nodded.

“Okay.” He could do that, it was simple enough. He slowly eased himself into a lying position on his back, looking up at James with a timid gaze. 

“That's good, Arthur,” James flashed him a warm grin, and Arthur felt himself grow warm at the praise. “Now just try to relax; take a deep breath, close your eyes, whatever feels comfortable for you.” Arthur nodded and took in a deep breath. He then exhaled it before letting his eyes slowly flutter shut, trying to relax his body and prepare himself for whatever the hypnotherapist was going to do. Admittedly, he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands and left them laying gently clasped against his stomach. It seemed like James was making sure Arthur was comfortable before continuing. 

“Now that you’re in a nice and comfortable position, we’re going to do some breathing exercises, okay?” Arthur gave him a nod. He still felt quite alert and aware of his surroundings, despite the darkness that swam in his vision. He could blame the effects of PTSD and his tendency to be a light sleeper if he really wanted to. But, James’s voice was nice and soothing, which helped him to relax even a little. 

He listened intently to his next instructions. “When I say in, I want you to slowly breathe in through your nose for three seconds, and then out through your mouth for another three seconds, okay?” Arthur nodded again. He could do that, it seemed easy enough. “Okay, then slowly breathe in…” He did so, slowly inhaling air through his nose, “and out…” He vaguely thought about how soft and soothing James’s voice was yet again as he spoke, but left the thought be as that same voice filtered into his consciousness. “Breathe in through your nose…” He did so, “and out through your mouth…”

“Breathe in again...and then out...letting your body relax as you slowly exhale…” Arthur followed his instructions, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders and arms loosen as he breathed out. “Breathe in again...and then out...letting your body relax...good, you're doing good, Arthur…” His lips twitched upwards just the slightest bit at the praise, but it slowly faded back into a complacent expression. “Feel your body loosen as you breathe in…” He did. “And then out...in...and out...all the tension in your body flowing out of you each time you exhale…” Arthur didn't notice the way his hands started to lose their grip against each other and eventually fell limply to the couch at some point. 

He didn't know how much time had passed, or how heavy his whole body felt. He didn't even realize that James was no longer giving him a cadence for his breathing, which was now naturally at a slow pace. “Just keep breathing, nice and slow...and with every exhale, your body feels heavier, and heavier…” Arthur sort of felt like he was floating in a dazed sort of way, and the only thing grounding him to reality was James’s voice. He could pull himself out of his dazed state if he wanted to, he reasoned with himself. He could still listen and hear other things, potential danger, he wasn't being forced into this state...he just chose to listen only to James’s voice. His voice was nice to listen to. 

“Good, you're doing great Arthur…”Another flicker of a smile, though this time it was barely noticeable as even his lips felt too heavy to move. “Now, I want you to imagine the coziest place you can think of for me…someplace where you're laying down, all nice and warm and in a happy place…” The darkness started to shift into a bed, Joker’s bed, to be specific; it was one of the places that held the warmest and happy memories for the half-angel...in his own dreams, anyway. “Imagine yourself snuggling against something really warm and comforting as you lay down on that cozy place…” Joker immediately appeared in his mind, of course, a dreamy smile lazily curling onto Arthur’s lips as the pillow he was resting against shifted into being Joker’s lap. He nuzzled his head back against the blond’s warm chest, pulling him closer in his mind even if his heavy fingers only twitched in reality. He swore he could faintly hear the blond’s heartbeat as well, just as he fantasized listening to for many nights, which lulled him further into a trance.

“Are you imagining someplace and something, Arthur..?” James asked in that soft, gentle tone. Arthur could barely manage a nod and let out a weak hum of acknowledgment. “Good. That's good...then I want you to start counting down from five, okay? And with each number, I want you to imagine the warmth and safety and sleepiness you're feeling now to intensify, and I want you to imagine yourself sinking deeper and deeper into that place, into that feeling, letting go of your thoughts and any other negative feelings...only letting yourself feel just like you would if you were in that place you're imagining right now.” Arthur gave another weak hum and waited for James to say, “Go ahead and start, then, Arthur…”

“Five…” he murmured, his lips feeling like they were stuck together with molasses as he tried to form syllables. Almost immediately he felt himself sink deeper into the bed. He also felt Joker’s arms wrap soothingly around him, enveloping him in his scent and warmth. His body relaxed even further.

“Good...let that warmth and sleepiness intensify...slowly going deeper and deeper…” James hummed, adding to his slow descent. 

“...Four…” It felt even harder to say that this time around, his words sounding slurred with sleepiness as Arthur found himself struggling to think of the next number as he felt Joker start to slowly run his fingers through his surprisingly silky brown hair. “...Th-..three…” it was so hard to focus now. He felt so sleepy; he would be shocked that he was still awake with how warm and safe he felt if he had the ability to process such a thought. 

“Slowly sinking deeper and deeper...relaxing…Letting go...” James whispered. 

“...Two…” His voice was barely a whisper at that point. In his mind’s eye, his wings were exposed now, ruffling against the bed, and Joker was stroking them now in that slow, heavenly rhythm. Everything felt so warm and fuzzy and heavy in such a good way. How could he ever resist this?

James watched in slight awe as the same occurred in reality; Arthur’s hair faded from its usual hazel brown to a soft snow-white color, and with a soft glow, his wings slowly came into view. James thought about shifting him to his back and did so when he thought the uncomfortability might hinder his trance. Thankfully, he didn't seem bothered at all with the new position, his wings simply drooping against his back. 

“....” James then waited for him to finish, but he didn't, nor seemed to make any indication he was going to. After a good two minutes had passed, he nodded in satisfaction and gently murmured, “One.” It wasn't obvious, but James had done this long enough to see the way Arthur’s body subtly fell completely limp and unmoving. He had gone completely under. “Good...you're doing good, Arthur...just let yourself sink deeper, and deeper…” His breathing was still nice and slow, though this time he was breathing straight from his mouth rather than his nose. “Let yourself float in this feeling...You don’t have to worry about anything, just listen to my voice…” The bed and Joker slowly faded away from his mind’s eyes at James’s words, but Arthur didn’t mind, and if he could still think, he wouldn’t believe he’d have the capacity to mind; Everything was encompassed in darkness, but in the comforting kind. He willingly let his conscious mind be lulled to sleep by James’s voice as he continued to pull him further and further into trance and accomplish what they had set out to do in the first place. 

“Can you still listen to my voice, Arthur..?” James asked, prompting a weak hum from the whitet. He felt like he could easily slip into sleep, feeling as if he was on a cloud drifting in darkness, but he could hear James quite clearly, his smooth yet gentle voice being the only tether keeping him afloat in this state. “Good, that's good…” A flicker of a smile briefly twitched on Arthur’s lips at the praise before it fell back into a relaxed expression. 

“Now, I want you to imagine something for me, Arthur, can you do that?” Arthur nodded. He was pretty sure he could do anything James asked, he need only say. “Good...I want you to imagine a door for me, the door that hides your nightmares.” Arthur's fingers twitched slightly at that, and the beginnings of a frown were starting to form on his face. Without any prompting, his mind immediately conjured up a narrow, wooden door; a door of a closet, to be specific. The mere sight of it was enough to make his relaxed body tense slightly, and a scared, instinctual whimper escaped him as the feathers of his wings became ruffled. He...he didn't like this door, didn't like what it reminded him of, and what was behind it. He had..he had to run—

“Shh…it's okay...” But then a calm, soothing voice cut through his worries. He found himself slowly relaxing into it, his body melting into the couch and his wings drooping once more. There was a hand now that was combing through his hair, and at first he thinks he should recoil from it, but he hears soft whispers of a deep, comforting voice, and he instead lets himself enjoy it and sinks back into that comforting darkness, despite the fact that the door was still there, floating alongside him. 

“Shh...there you go...calming down...relaxing deeper...there's nothing here that's going to hurt you, not even the door, you're safe…” James whispered gently as his fingers continued to card through Arthur’s locks of hair (which were surprisingly softer than he imagined). Once Arthur was back into a calm and relaxed state and was breathing steadily again, he continued. “The door won't hurt you, Arthur...because I want you to imagine a lock being on it, on the doorknob.” Arthur was reluctant to interact with the door in any way, but he thought about a lock being there, keeping those terrifying nightmares and memories away. 

“Do you see the lock on it, Arthur?” When he saw the door again, sure enough, there indeed was a big padlock attached to the doorknob, with no keyhole in sight. He...didn't want to touch it, in fear of breaking it somehow, but he was pretty sure it would definitely keep things out for a while. He gave a slight nod as his response to James’s question. James gave a small nod to himself as well. 

“Good, that's good...This will serve as your lock to those bad nightmares, those bad memories…It will keep you safe.”  _ Until the lock rusts and breaks _ , James thinks to himself but knows better than to say out loud. The Placebo Effect can be a strong influence, after all. 

Now that they had accomplished what they had set out to do, it was time to bring Arthur back up from trance. However… James glanced towards one of the clocks hanging off the wall. It was quite late already, as the short hand pointed towards ‘3’ and he was pretty sure it wasn't the afternoon right now. He didn't exactly want to send him off when it was so late, but he didn't want to force him into anything either. 

“Now that the lock is secure, I want you to think about it the answer to this question, and say your answer out loud: would you like to stay here for the night?” James decided this was the best way to go about it. It took a moment for words to actually be processed in Arthur's dopey mind and form on his lips—he felt like he was on the verge of sleep, after all—but he managed to give an answer. 

“...Yes…” he mumbled, syllables slurred in drowsiness. “Don'...wanna go back..too long...too quiet…” a hint of a smile curled into his lips. “Wanna see Joker…d’be nice to wake up with ‘im...there...” James grinned softly at that and nodded. 

“Alright, then let yourself slowly sink into the darkness, Arthur,” he murmured tenderly. “Your mind slowly shutting down, feeling peaceful as you creep closer and closer to sleep…” A weak wisp of a hum past through his lips before he fell silent once more, letting himself drift off to the sound of James’s soothing voice. 

“I'm going to count down from three, Arthur,” James lightly announced, “and with each number, you'll find yourself sinking deeper, and deeper, feeling more relaxed and comfortable, until you can sink completely once I hit the number one...then you will fall into a deep, peaceful sleep, with no nightmares or memories to haunt you.” He let a moment pass to let his words sink in before he continued. “Three…” His gaze picked up how his body softened even further into the couch as he began the countdown. “Two...feeling yourself slowly sink deeper and deeper…” He heard Arthur breathe out one final breath before he sank into sleep. “ _ One _ .” James saw the brunet’s (or whitet’s now, he guessed) head tilt to the side as he let himself be engulfed by the darkness and fell into a deep sleep. 

James continued to stroke his hair to make sure that Arthur’s descent into sleep was a smooth sail. He watched with slight wonder as his hair started to shift back into its regular hazel shade, his wings also fading out of existence along with it. It was always such a curiosity to the noiret, seeing all traces of his angel heritage just fade away. It made him a little envious; perhaps his life might have been a bit easier could he have hidden his golden eyes from view. But, James supposed he couldn’t exactly complain...his golden eyes are what got him all the way here, for better  _ and  _ for worse. It was too late to back out now. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he supposed it was time for he himself to head to sleep. He slowly stood up and carefully made his way upstairs for a brief moment. Grabbing a spare blanket, he came back down and gently placed it over Arthur. It felt almost nostalgic, he thought to himself as he adjusted the blanket over the brunet’s sleeping form.  _ There was an almost bitter twinge to it _ , but it felt nostalgic nonetheless. A somber smile curled onto his lips before he stepped back and watched over Arthur for a few seconds, just to make sure the hypnosis had worked and he wasn't showing any signs of nightmares. 

_ In a way _ , he thought absentmindedly,  _ he reminded him of himself.  _ That was probably why he could warm up to him so easily, though; misery finds solace in company, after all. 

With that thought in mind (and before his own mind starts drifting off to darker places), he left Arthur be for the night and went up to his own bedroom, making sure to leave the door open just in case anything happened. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! Pretty boy!” Arthur let out a sleepy groan as he felt like he was being shaken awake, his eyelids flutter open before he immediately regretted the decision at the sudden onslaught of brightness that greeted him. 

“ _ Merde _ ,” he groaned as he groggily blinked up towards the blurry silhouette of golden before him—wait, golden? He blinked more rapidly to let his vision clear up, revealing a frowning Joker hovering over him. Almost immediately his face flushed as he was suddenly very aware of how close they were. 

It seemed that Joker had the same realization he did, his face contorting with confusion— no doubt from his blush—before realization hit and his own cheeks flushed too. The air was knocked out of Arthur’s lungs as Joker pushed down against his chest to push himself up, the sudden impact quickly doing away with any lingering drowsiness he had left. 

“Wh—the hell!” Arthur wheezed a cough and glared at Joker, though admittedly he was glad that...intimate moment was over. 

“That was your own fault for coming here out of nowhere, not mine!” he huffed, and before Arthur could even protest he added quietly, “you didn't even wake me up when you came in.” Any words in Arthur’s throat died as he remembers last night, or well, what he came to accomplish, anyway. He can't say he remembers the specifics of the session, but he definitely doesn't remember any nightmares, and he feels more rested than he’s ever been these past few weeks, so it was definitely a success. He then saw no need for Joker to know, he thought to himself as he looked up at Joker’s worried golden eyes before he quickly glanced away. 

“I just...needed a place to rest,” he tried to play it off nonchalant and shrugged. He knew Joker didn't like lying, so he made sure to choose his words carefully and in a way that wasn't  _ technically  _ lying. “You were already sleeping anyway, and I didn't want to bother you.” Joker narrowed his eyes at him, studying him for a moment before he scoffed. 

“I could have very well given you a place to rest~” he smirked and winked, showing that he was teasing as usual. It made Arthur relax, but only slightly as he easily read the implications of his words. He willed himself not to blush, but he knew he was failing as he felt warmth spread across his cheeks. 

“You're not even 18,” he feebly protested, even as he knew—

“I turned 18 a while ago though~” Joker countered and emphasized it by wagging his eyebrows. Arthur knew his face was giving it away but  _ damn _ if he was going to give in. 

“You're sick,” he stated. 

“But yet you're blushing~” Arthur felt his face grow darker as he couldn't think of a witty comeback at that, which only further proved his point. He was sure Joker was going to capitalize on that even further as a beat passed between them, but… “Hey, you sure you're okay?” His eyes grew wide and he glanced back towards the blond, whose eyebrows were furrowed to a frown now and whose eyes were a lot softer than he remembered them to be. He found his breath hitching without his consent, a blush still across his white-ass face, but he could tell from his tone that this wasn't teasing but more sincere; a rarity, he learned, yet they seemed to have become increasingly more frequent. 

“Yeah,” he murmured gently, almost in a daze before he shook his head to get his head out of the clouds. “I mean, yes, yeah, I'm fine, I'm okay.” The look Joker gave him showed he was quite unconvinced and worriedly so. Arthur can't remember and doesn't know how he could ever have thought him to be nothing but cruel and uncaring. It makes flickers of a grin curl onto his lips. “I'm okay, Joker, really,” he insisted, his own voice gentle in order to reassure him. “I just...wanted to sleep here, for a change...not alone, I guess.” Joker purses his lips at that and seems to think about the answer for a bit before a small half-grin paints itself onto his lips. 

“Again, you could have just told me, I would have been more than happy to keep you company~” he's teasing again, but this time Arthur can tell that in some way, he's being serious, at least, in the company part, not the implications, as far as he can tell. 

“Again, you're sick,” he repeats, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind reminding him of his dark, deep little fantasies. It earns him a chuckle. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” Joker rolls his eyes and sticks his thumb towards the door. “Wanna go get some breakfast then? We can steal again.” Arthur let out a huff of a laugh at that, moving to sit up (when had there been a blanket on top of him? Oh, he should definitely thank James when he next sees him). 

“You know I'm literally the police, right?” He rolled his eyes as he stretched his arms. It really had been a good sleep. 

“You're the FBI,” Joker corrects. 

“Neither of them allow stealing.”

“Eh, whatever.” Arthur, once again, found his lips twitching with an infectious smile. Oh, the things Joker could do to him. 

“How about I'll just pay for breakfast?” he offered as he stands up. “That's not law-breaking.”

“Does that mean I get an all-out buffet then??” Joker’s eyes sparkle with the sudden possibilities laid out before him. 

“You know what? I take that back,” Arthur promptly decides. “I'm gonna pay for  _ my  _ breakfast and buy something for James too. You can go steal something.”

“What?!” Joker’s jaw dropped, aghast. “You can't do that! Why does James get breakfast and not me?!”

“Because he's actually  _ nice _ , of course.” A smirk of his own dances on Arthur's lips. 

“But I thought you said the police doesn’t allow for stealing?!”

“Well, if I don't see it…” Arthur shrugged, making Joker grit his teeth. 

“Fine, bastard! I'll just steal yours,” he declared as he moved to put on his worn shoes with determination. While he was busy doing that, Arthur couldn't help it shoot a fond yet somber smile his way. He couldn't plague Joker with his problems...he was just fine keeping things the way they were.  That was what he was going to keep telling himself, anyway.

“I’d like to see you try, blondie.”


	7. Warm Little Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After accidentally getting hit by a soccer ball, vampire/high school student Michael wakes up in the school nurse's office...and finds the person he's been crushing on in a chair next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this cliché but classic trope)](https://letsmakeitwrite.tumblr.com/post/178029538768/clich%C3%A9-but-classic-trope-when-the-person-who) !

Michael blinked awake, his blurred vision taking a moment to adjust to the dim yet all the same bright lights staring right at him. For a moment he thinks he should panic, but then he reminds himself that if it was the sun, he would literally be burning to death right this moment, so it wasn’t the sun and he was fine. 

Where in the hell, then, was he?? He flexes his fingers first, making sure that they can function (and were in fact still there) before he attempts to sit up, finding it rather easy to do so. He checks his arms, then his legs, and then his face. Yup, they’re still all there and accounted for. No one had stolen his limb or decapitated him. So then why was he not in lounging around in an alleyway or something?? Why was he...wherever this place was? Actually, he should probably find out what ‘this place’ was. 

He scanned his surroundings, trying to find clues to where in the hell of all hells he was...until his eyes landed on an overly familiar face.

Rei. 

He was sitting in a chair next to the bed (oh man a bed) he was currently sitting upon. He didn’t look rather comfortable with his back hunched over and his head ducked down. Michael slowly ducked his head and saw that Rei was in fact sleeping. Right beside the bed, that he was sitting on, right now. Without his glasses.

And that was when he remembered. The soccer match. Michael staring at him because he looked so— _holy shit_ —without glasses. And then the ball flying towards him with no warning. 

A ball hitting him right in the head shouldn’t have been a problem, though. He played football for Christ’s sake, _and_ he was an immortal vampire, so how could he have been knocked out with the force of such a kick?

A sudden _ache_ washed over him, a sharp gasp escaping him as he doubled over in pain. His stomach growled and gnawed at him, giving him the answer to his question. 

**_Hungry._ ** He had been hungry these past few days. Fuck, he needed a fix soon. Why had he not gotten one yet? There were plenty of douchebags he could easily suck dry, but, yet…

“Michael?” ...He was reminded of just why his stomach turned at the very idea of drinking anyone’s blood but **_his_**. 

The vampire bit his lip and tried to stifle a pained groan as he looked up towards a frowning Rei. His black hair looked almost blue when the light shone against it, and his eyes, those shining blue eyes that haunted his dreams looked at him with such concern that Michael was barely holding back his instincts from giving in and taking him right then and there for himself. He had his glasses on, thank fuck; he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself back if he didn’t have any protection against those practically-radiant sapphires of his. 

But then Rei stood up and seemed to be looking for someone—a nurse, he realized, because this had to be the school clinic. “ _No_ ,” Michael scrambled to say, mentally cringing at how pained his voice sounded to his own ears, but he couldn’t let someone else come in here, not when he was already so close to shifting. He could just barely hold himself together, and he was only doing it out of the sheer need of not wanting to expose himself to Rei. If someone else with _succulent blood_ came in, his instincts might just overpower his will. “D-don’t, don’t get someone, I’m fine, I’m okay,” he insisted, trying to force a grin onto his face while still lightly wrapping an arm around his gnawing stomach. 

Rei looked at him skeptically. “You seem quite pale,” he murmured, and _fuck_ his voice was so soft, so gentle, Michael had to subtly dig his fingers into the sheets to distract him from the constant cacophony of **_feed feED FEED_ **in his head. 

“I’m always pale,” he answered with a smirk, “you know I have a light complexion.” That earned him that adorable an unamused look, but the noiret did reluctantly sit back down and Michael visibly relaxed with that. 

“...It’s my fault you got hit,” Rei confessed, catching the fake brunet off guard, the pain momentarily forgotten as he looked towards him with wide eyes. Rei cast his gaze to the ground, his hands clenched into fists against his legs. “I—you were staring weirdly at me, but—that did not warrant me to kick the ball right into you, and even then quite harshly, and I...I’m sorry for that.” 

Michael blinked, his mind taking a good second to put the pieces together and realize that _Rei had felt bad and stayed with him this entire time._

It wasn’t often that he got to see a different side to the very standoffish Rei that everyone in school knew, but he knew that was because Rei _didn’t_ like other people knowing that he had a softer, more vulnerable side to him, just as he didn’t like others knowing that he actually lived in a foster home and cared for about 10 younger “siblings”. But he had shown him such a side, even sucked up his pride and apologized to him out front. Michael wondered if he would have done the same if it was someone else that he’d had hit in the head.

The thought immediately made the pain in his very nerves flare up with a vengeance, and he couldn’t help but let out a pained hiss as he doubled over in agony again, his whole body pulsing with a painful _need_. 

**Need his blood** **_succulent blood hungry need NEED—_ **

“M-Michael?!” The vampire had to consciously breathe in through his mouth and not his nose _because Rei was now leaning over him all worried_ **_his ample blank skin just begging to be bitten and drunk from—_ **

“I-I’m fine, I’m okay,” he breathed, sucking in another breath through his mouth. “I-um, don’t like the smell of, clinics, so, yeah.” Rei wasn’t stupid, Michael knew he wasn’t going to buy that half-assed lie, but Michael gave him a pleading gaze and Rei narrowed his blue eyes on him for a good second before he sighed. 

“You know you look like shit, right?” he crossed his arms and told him bluntly, and Michael couldn’t help but let out a weak chuckle at that. After everything, he was still blunt Rei through and through, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that about him. “You may be ‘naturally pale’ and shit, but you’ve practically looked like a ghost since yesterday. What’s going on with you?” 

By now Michael was able to make the gnawing pain and desire back down to an aching simmer. It wasn’t pleasant nor easy to ignore, but it’ll do. He straightened out his position and gave his best grin. “Aw, are you concerned about me now, Rei~?” he crooned, leaning forward and using his height to his advantage to tower over the short noiret. His expression immediately turned to one of a grimace as he glowered up at him.

“Don’t play games with me,” he snapped, though he did take a step back, which made Michael snicker. “I’m the reason you’re in this place anyway, and I’m not that big of an asshole as to just leave you here without some sort of—” Rei paused, his cheeks dusting a red as he realized what he was going to say, and fuck if Michael has ever grinned so wide in fucking _centuries_. Rei, of course, noticed, and Michael had to stop himself from laughing, but he couldn’t help it when he saw the color on Rei’s cheeks flush even darker. “Wh—fuck you! Don’t fucking laugh at me, you bastard! God—” The soccer player ran his hands through his thick locks of hair in frustration, just like he always did when he was irritated or exasperated. 

Little warm butterflies gathered around Michael’s unbeating chest as he saw how flustered Rei looked. He didn’t even realize he had the sappiest grin slapped onto his face as he saved Rei the trouble and just hummed, “Thanks.” 

“If you fucking think I—wait, what?” Rei did a double take, making those butterflies just burst again. Michael had to stomp down that simmering ache within him again, and this time he was more successful as he put his elbow on his knee and rested his chin there.

“I said thanks, for staying,” he replied sincerely, thinking that he deserved that this time. “It’s like fucking—what?” He glanced towards the window beside them. The sun had already set, the sky no longer a warm azure but rather a darkening navy. “6:30ish? Shit, I’ve kept you here for like an hour. How are you going to get home?” Rei narrowed his eyes (again) at his change in topic, but he didn’t question it. 

“I can walk, it’ll be fine,” he waved off. Michael frowned a little but kept his grin on.

“Aww, but it’s already dark out,” he pouted, even if his fears were sincere. “I can take ‘ya home if you’d like~” 

Rei’s immediate reaction already said everything on what he thought about _that_ . “ _No_ , absolutely not. You’re staying here and fucking resting.” Aaand there it was. Michael may or may not have let out a fond scoff under his breath. “The nurse said they called your parents already but they didn’t pick up, so really, are _you_ sure you have a way to get home?” He tensed up a little at the inquiry, having totally forgotten that he’d forged his whole family and address. 

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he forced himself to casually wave off such a thing; too quick, and he knew Rei was going to catch on. He already looked like he was suspicious as fuck, though, so Michael added, “You got someplace to be, right?” Rei’s expression shifted at that, a small frown furrowing onto his eyebrows as he glanced at the window before looking away.

“Ah, well, I suppose…” he admitted before looking back at him, “but if you need to get home, then I...I don’t think I’d mind...heading out with you, I guess.” Michael blinked, mind taking a good moment to process that. Rei..was actually offering to walk together. Alone. Oh fuck. 

Thinking about it, he wasn’t actually sure if he could handle being alone just with Rei in the dark, especially if he could barely keep himself together _here_ . Some part of him really did feel concern for his safety, though, the thought of Rei being mugged or kidnapped sending chills down his spine. _This was a once in a lifetime opportunity too, but..._

“No, no I’ll be fine, I appreciate the offer though.” Michael offered an apologetic grin, one that he truly meant. In other circumstances, he really truly would have loved to just hang out with him, but...he knew that’d be dangerous for Rei, more so than going out alone. 

“Ah, alright…” Rei nodded. Michael missed the brief flash of disappointment through his eyes. “then, I’ll head out if you don’t need anything.” His eyes hardened and he jabbed a finger towards him, “ _but I swear to fucking god if you don’t rest—_ ”

Michael’s eyes widened before he let out a laugh. “I’ll rest, I’ll rest, don’t worry.” He put his hands up in mock surrender. Rei huffed, sharply narrowing his eyes as if scanning him for any signs of deceit before he sighed and nodded.

“Then, I’ll be going.” Michael waved him off as Rei picked up his gym bag and headed out, but he paused and looked back towards him. “I'll...see you tomorrow?” Michael’s eyes widened for a brief moment before a warm grin melted into his face. He couldn't deny he heavily enjoyed witnessing these rare moments of Rei. 

“Yeah, I'll see ‘ya tomorrow.” Rei seemed to take a moment to process that before he quickly nodded and raised his hand once as his gesture of goodbye. Michael returned the wave, seeing him off as he turned back and left. 

The smile faded on his lips once he was sure Rei was out of sight. He heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back against the headboard, his hands coming up to rub his eyes.

He didn’t have a choice anymore. Either he hurried and found some poor soul to drink dry, or he was going to have to stay away from Rei. Confronting him wasn’t even an _option_ , even if his instincts constantly urged him for it. It was those same instincts that fucking told his stomach to curl and cringe at the thought of drinking _anyone else’s_ blood, so really, he was left with only one choice.

The thought of staying away from Rei...hurt him right down to his very core, but he couldn’t afford Rei to even know about his secret, much less drink from him.

So the decision was set, but he wondered how he was going to keep it up, though...


	8. You are My New Pillow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring some real-needed father-son bonding between Jo and James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James and Jo are back at it again, except with fluff between father and son :-) 
> 
> (Also note that Joker from "A Good Night's Sleep" is the same person as Jo! Joker is just the younger version of him)

“You are now my new pillow.” Jo declared, stretching his back against his James as if to prove his point. James let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.

“Am I really that flabby?” he asked—jokingly, of course. That was a testament to the progress he’s made with the help of therapy and emotional support, really, and James was reminded of how worth it all of it had been with the way his almost 20-year-old son (fuck, he’s really almost an adult now) turned his head and smirked at him, even if his pale-blue eyes weren’t exactly meeting his. The fact that Jo was blind had struck him every time he had seen his eyes and the large scar across them, reminding him of his mistake...but again, things had gotten better. They had talked it out with their fair share of heated arguments and sincere apologies, and right now, they were reveling in the aftermath of it all, both having survived everything they’d gone through for the most part.

The point was that James, for the first time since Gods know when, actually felt  _ okay _ .

He smiled fondly, his golden eyes filling with warmth as he regarded his son, one of his callused hands coming up to gently run through Jo’s soft blond curls of hair that were getting longer by the day. They had briefly talked about cutting his hair, but Jo admitted he didn’t mind keeping them neck-length. 

“Maybe then I’d look more like you,” he had said with a chuckle, and James had laughed with him, but his chest had been filled with such endearment from the hidden meaning behind those words that he was surprised he hadn’t teared up during that time. He had only been just starting to get used to that feeling of fuzziness, and maybe he’d never fully get used to it, but he’d certainly learned to accept it rather than push it away like he used to.

This was another one of those times when he felt his heart feel all warm and full, especially when Jo hummed in content and nuzzled further into James’s shoulder.

“‘Course not,” Jo murmured, his voice sounding a little drunk with sleep (he’d been working and studying all day, poor kid), “you’re just really good pillow material.”

James blew a huff of a laugh through his nose, his fingers gently scratching Jo’s scalp. “Can’t say I’m complaining,” he replied. If he had still been his old self, he might have added that staying here was better than having to get up and take his meds, but he knew better, and not only did he not want to ruin the moment and worry Jo, but he also had gotten better about taking his meds, especially since they actually worked nowadays (turns out only taking pills and doing nothing else didn’t actually solve things, go figure). “Especially not if my son is by my side,” he said instead, his hand ruffling said son’s hair. That earned him another soft hum, Jo now shifting so that his cheek was against James’s shoulder, his arms gently looping around his arm. 

“Can’t say I’m complaining either if my dad’s okay with it,” he muttered before adding, as if to make sure: “as long as he takes his meds and continues therapy, of course.” James lightly scoffed and brought his other hand to pet Jo’s hair (his original one was now preoccupied).

“‘Course he will,” he hummed, “he wants to be better and make his son proud, after all.” 

Jo snuggled closer at that. “Why the fuck would he do that? His son’s already proud of him,” he weakly huffed, his voice thicker with drowsiness. 

Warmth burst within James’s chest nevertheless. “I’m sure his dad is really happy to hear that,” he told him. “He’ll continue to try and make his son proud.” 

“I’m sure he will,” Jo mumbled. A beat passed between them before Jo suddenly whispered, “I love you, Dad.” 

James’s eyes grew wide, briefly taken back by those sudden words before his lips broke into a heartwarming grin. He gently pressed his lips to Jo’s forehead. “I love you too, son,” he whispered back, thumb stroking his hair. A weak but still fond grin curled onto Jo’s lips.

A comfortable silence blanketed over the two of them, and only when James felt Jo’s breathing even out did he start to move. It was a little hard with one arm slightly asleep, but he managed to carry his son (who was taller than him now, holy shit) to his bedroom.

He placed his son on his bed, tucked him in, and pressed another light kiss to his forehead before leaving him to rest.

Yeah, things were definitely okay. 


	9. A Special Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring an assassin, her day off, a delivery, and memories long past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another side of Riko from "Amazing Dolce"!

It was a special day for Riko. 

Cyril cocked his eyebrows, his back resting against the wall as his eyes looked over the dolly killer in curiosity as she was on the burner phone declining the latest assassination request.

_ “But I’ll give good money! C’mon, just think it—”  _

“Sorry sir, but no can do!” Riko chirped, no hint of remorse in her cutesy tone. “Maybe if you’d like it tomorrow, then—”

_ “No! No, I need it today, he has to be dead by today!” _   
“Then someone else can do it for you~? We have some people here—”

_ “No! Gah, I need you, Dolly Killer! The guy I want dead has this big loli—” _

“Again, no can do sir! Sorry, but assassins have days off, too~” 

_ “Wait! What if I increase the money to—”  _ Cyril watched with amusement as Riko promptly shut the burner phone and smashed it with the heel of her slippers, as is routine. 

“Well, at least Isaac won’t have to wear another dress again,” the middle-aged man joked as he pushed himself off the wall. “Quite unlike you to turn down a large sum of money,” he mused, crossing his arms as he watched her throw away the remains of the phone. 

“I would definitely have loved to see that,” a devious smirk made its way to Riko’s like before it was replaced with a heavy frown. “But if I heard what he was offering, I might have started to cry,” Riko whined, a pout on her lips as she thought back to the sum he had initially offered with a wistful gaze. Cyril let out a little huff. 

“He was offering a high one for sure,” he agreed. A pause fell between them. “...But, you have an important thing today, don’t you?” Riko’s face sobered and she nodded with a hum, her usual cutesy face shifting to be a lot more somber and mature. Her uncle really preferred her coy and cute nature over it in all honesty. Not many get to see this side of her, and so they don’t know the true side to the Cute Dolly Killer. “You sure you don’t need any help?” he offered, mentally waving the thought away.

“Nah, I’ll be okay,” Riko offered her uncle a flash of a grin. “You know me, I’m always good at infiltration!” Cyril let out a small huff and ruffled her blond hair.

“That you are,” he smirked, “It’s definitely ‘cause I trained ‘ya myself, though.” Riko looked aghast at that.

“What!? No way! Uncle’s horrible at infiltration!” Her expression turned offended and she puffed out her cheeks. “You’re like a boulder with feet!” Cyril laughed at that and shook his head.

“Alright, alright, whatever ‘ya say.” He pushed against her back. “Now hurry up and get going, don’t let me keep ‘ya.” Riko let out another huff but nodded. She definitely felt a little lighter with his banter.

“Thanks Uncle,” she gave him a quick but sincere hug before pulling away and strapping the small leather bag close to her chest. “See you soon!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

She arrived at the location with no problem at all, the hooded cape she was wearing really did its job in disguising her in plain sight. At best, she looked like a Red Riding Hood except poorer with a brown raggedy hood than a red one, and at the worst, she was just another villager in the crowd. 

It didn’t take her long to find the target’s house. Her footsteps became light and silent as she approached it, her mind laser-focusing on any and all surrounding noise.

She tried the windows first, but found them closed tight. She grimaced, but was not surprised. He too was once an assassin, she supposed. She tried for the front windows, instead. She expected the same results and was therefore surprised when she found them unlocked. Admittedly, she doesn’t know what he’s been doing nowadays, but...well, Riko guessed he wasn’t exactly cautious with his life. As far as she knew, he’d be quite okay with death. 

That thought wasn’t one she wanted to entertain for long. Without further ado, she slowly lifted the window open, the one with a table sitting right beside it. She remembered that table; it was old and now-rotting, but once upon a time, it had been new and smelled like pine. The three of them always ate their meals on this table, chatter and good food always surrounding it.

But such times were long, long past.

Looking away, she took out the package from her leather bag, her gloved hands gently putting it to rest on the wooden table. She then quickly slipped out, putting the window back in its original place before quickly hurrying off, wiping the starting droplets of tears from her eyes.

A few hours later, a tired man would find a small, neatly wrapped present with a small card labeled in cursive:

**“ 𝒥𝑜𝓎𝑒𝓊𝓍 𝒜𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒶𝒾𝓇𝑒 ”**


	10. Don't Burn Yourself on the Way in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a harsh argument between Blake and someone he'd come to see as his crush, the last person he expected to see knocks on his door...that person's sister.
> 
> What's more, she seems to be telling him that he's _dying_.

A pang of hurt, disappointment,  and hope immediately assaulted Blake as he opened the door. “Rosa,” he muttered quietly. The doll-like woman had her hands clasped together her delicate eyebrows furrowed as her eyes flickered off to the side and away, her expression easily betraying the guilt she felt. Blake couldn’t understand why  _ she _ felt guilty. It hadn’t been her fault, after all. 

“Hello, Blake,” she greeted, her voice meek, yet still held its signature air of eloquence, somehow.  _ It made Blake wonder if that, too, was fake.  _

“What do you want?” he asked tiredly. He didn’t like being as upset as he’s been feeling lately. He hated how shitty it made him feel and how neither party was happy when he was. He also didn’t like the idea of being upset at Rosa, not when she’s been one of the closest friends he’s ever had in a long, long time. He didn’t make friends easily, it just wasn’t in his nature to be surrounded by people—not because he was super unlikeable (or at least he didn’t think so), but sometimes he just didn’t click with people. And that just so happened to occur most of the time. It didn’t happen with Rosa, though—he rather enjoyed her friendship, and...well, there used to be someone else, but now...he didn’t know anymore. That doubt was starting to creep to Rosa too. They were after all, siblings, twins. Who’s to say Rosa wasn’t  _ faking _ either? 

“I—wanted to apologize,” Rosa stumbled over her words—a first for Blake. It caught his attention, admittedly. Why was she—? “A-ah, for my brother, I mean.” She hastily added as she seemed to realize her mistake. Ah, of course. He didn’t even have the fucking  _ balls _ to own up to his own mistake. He had to get his sister to do it. The thought made Blake’s face twist with a grimace. Anger was now simmering in his chest  (or was it hurt?).

“Look, I appreciate you coming on  _ his _ behalf,” he snapped, voice dripping with poison as he bit out that one word, “but I think he made himself pretty clear that he doesn’t want to see me again.” Blake felt his heart twist up as his words replayed in his head. He clenched his fists to his side to stop the incoming heat in his eyes from growing. “And I don’t think I’d like to see him again, either,” he gritted out, “especially if you have to go and apologize  _ for _ him, Rosa.” Blake sucked in a breath. He didn’t, want to break things off with Rosa, but he knew things would only get messy if he stayed connected with her. 

They were done here. He moved to grip the door to his apartment and turned his head to the side, unable to look Rosa in the eye again. “I think it’d be best if we don’t see each other again, sorry, he muttered. He wanted to say more, maybe look at Rosa one last time, but he couldn’t  (he was too much of a goddamn coward) . 

He moved to shut the door  (run away like he always did) , but then a sharp, desperate “w-wait!” made him flinch, but that wasn’t what made him come to a halt. No, what made him immediately snap his head towards Rosa with wide eyes was when she had reached out a hand to stop him. He could vividly hear the sound of something  _ burning  _ for that split second before Rosa quickly recoiled her hand with a wince. Blake was left utterly speechless, his blue eyes completely fixated on what looked like an increasingly-reddening  _ burn _ mark on the whitette’s porcelain skin. 

“Wait, wait—please, I-I’m—” What really took the icing on the cake was how  _ panicked _ Rosa seemed to be, her pale skin only becoming even more pallid as she stuttered over her words. “It’s not—that’s not—I—” His eyes flickered between her  _ burned?  _ hand before he stared at her sapphire-blue eyes that suddenly became glassy. 

“ _ Please _ ,” she whispered, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “Rob—Roberto is  _ dying _ , and I can’t—I can’t do anything once again, I  _ can’t _ —” she was cut off with a heartbreaking sob.

Blake’s mind was spinning, his head feeling overwhelmed with all of this new information that was just thrust to him. Rosa’s hand had just been  _ burnt _ by simply trying to reach for him, and now Roberto was apparently  _ dying _ ? He felt his heart drop to his stomach at the thought of Roberto suddenly  _ dead _ .  Is that why he pushed him away?? His head was reeling with all this information and his first instinct was to panic and immediately know more (what do you mean he’s dying? What’s happened? Did he get into an accident? Is he sick?) but he was able to stop himself just in time, reminding himself that having two people panic at the same time would do no good. 

“Rosa,  _ Rosa _ .” He gently but firmly grabbed ahold of her wrists, snapping her back to reality. “Please, calm down...do—do you want to come in? You’re...you’re hurt.” Rosa’s eyes blew wide and her teary eyes immediately darted towards her hand, where a prominent mark had already formed. She threw her hand back and away from his grip, the sudden, sheer force of which caught Blake off guard. His mind stuttered to a halt once more as he was reminded how  _ strong _ the twins could be if they wanted to be.

Rosa’s eyes were wide with panic as her eyes flickered between her hand—which she gripped with her other hand—and Blake, who was still reeling over everything. He blinked and then lightly shook his head. He could make all the conspiracy theories he wanted later right now he just needed to actually have a goddamn moment to process everything. “Would you like to come in?” he managed to actually formulate a coherent sentence in his mind  _ and _ keep his voice steady and gentle while still at a louder level so that he could get through to Rosa, who once again snapped out of her panic. 

“H-huh? Oh, um, s-sure—yes, yes, I’d…” she cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “Y-yes, please, I’d..I’d really like that.” Blake offered a weak (but strained) grin and stepped to the side.

“After you, then.” 


	11. Soft Kisses to the Scars I've Caused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June has frequent headaches, and tonight was no exception. 
> 
> What he wasn't expecting was for his boyfriend to be awake too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide mention and its aftermath

“June?” The brunet immediately perked up at the soft sound of his name being called. He whipped his head to the side in instinctual surprise, though he was very quick to regret it when his head started throbbing even more in response. He hoped that his wince wasn’t too noticeable and tried to cover it up with a weak smile. 

“Hey August,” June murmured softly, using the nickname that was quite special between the two of them.  He hoped its use would cover him up a little bit . His fingers twitched with the desire to clutch his pounding head, but he forced them to stay resting against the table as he continued to plaster on a semi-forced grin. “Did I wake you?” 

Unfortunately, the noiret didn’t seem so convinced, a heavy frown etched onto his expression as his eyes—a vivid swirl of green and brown—flickered over him, studied him. “Not really,” He admitted slowly as he started walking over to him. “I just...woke up and saw that you weren’t beside me, and…” He trailed off, but June got what he was going to say. A slight prickle of guilt curled in his chest as his smile faded a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered sincerely, hands moving to shuffle together. “I just…” He glanced down at the cool, empty cup in front of him, “...needed a glass of water, is all.” He made the motion of holding the cup and taking a fake sip of it before setting it back down ( hopefully August didn’t know it was empty and he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself ). August’s eyes hovered over the empty cup before going back to June. He moved behind him, presumably to take the empty seat beside him, and June haphazardly moved to stand. “W-wait, it’s okay, we can go back to bed now—“ Just as his legs started to push him up, however, he felt gentle hands rest against either side of his temples, and the gentle yet firm pressure that was applied immediately made June’s legs buckle, his eyes rolling back in bliss as he fell back into the chair. 

“...Mmm…” A quiet hum of contentment escaped him as his throbbing headache was slowly soothed away by August’s deft hands, his eyes fluttering shut as he found his head tilting back into his boyfriend’s soothing touches. 

June didn’t know how much time passed before he came back to himself and realized what was happening. The sudden realization made him flinch, but he was firmly yet gently held by August. He tried to tilt his head up to gaze up at the noiret, but he quickly regretted the decision as the whole world decided to tilt in retaliation. His body swayed a bit before being stabilized yet again by August’s hand sliding down from the sides of his head to his shoulders, carefully balancing him again from behind. 

“You okay?” His voice was filled with concern, with slight panic clearly suppressed but laced on the very edges of his tone. It made June weakly smile in appreciation. He closed his eyes to try and help regain his sense of balance faster and brought a hand up to get rest over one of August’s. 

“I’m okay,” he muttered softly, though winced as his headache came back with a vengeance. He opened his mouth to admit that he was hurting a bit, but it seemed that he didn’t even have to say anything as August’s hands slowly slid back up his arms and shoulders. June shivered a little as his hands traveled through the curves of his neck and chin before resting back against his temples. A soft sigh escaped the brunet this time as his hands slowly massaged the sides to his head in soothing circles. 

He whimpered a bit louder than he would’ve liked, unable to stop himself from voicing his relief from the throbbing pain he’s suffered for quite some time now. He honestly had forgotten what it was like to not have his head constantly feel like it was split open. He vaguely heard a light hum followed by something soft press gently against the top of his head. 

“Anything for you Junebug,” August murmured against his hair, the nickname making his lips curl into an affectionate grin. More unknown time passed, this headache taking longer to fade away than the first, but once June was able to actually think without a constant pain in the background, he spoke up. 

“How did you know I had a headache?” he asked quietly, eyes slowly opening for the first time to look up into August’s own. At some point he slowly eased his head to tilt back against his boyfriend, who moved forward and let his chest act as a cushion. August’s hands slowly stopped moving in slow circles (June had to consciously bite back a whine) and he looked back down at June with a slight frown that furrowed deeper the more he stared into June’s sky-blue eyes, his own flickering off to the side a bit before coming back. 

“I…” he started, but then trailed off. He bit his lower lip and looked away again, June studying his expression and noting how...ashamed it looked. He waited patiently, though, hoping that August would tell him upfront, like he promised he would do. June felt something akin to appreciation flicker within him as August indeed kept his promise and regarded him once more. “I...imagined that you were bound to feel the after-effects of...well…” Slowly, almost hesitantly, August slid his hand towards his hairline, but then paused. He looked towards June almost in silent permission, and gently, June nodded. It wasn’t hard to know what he was trying to touch. 

Even with consent, August’s hand almost had a light tremor to them as they slowly made their way to the right side of his hair, his fingers gently running through his hair to move it away. His thumb then gently brushed against a somewhat small scar across where hair once covered it. A dulled sense of melancholy passed through June as memories of how he obtained such a scar briefly flashed in his kind, and he could hear August take in a shaky breath, eyes fixated on the scar yet appearing far away, as if he was staring at something else. 

Sensing what was most likely happening, June lifted his hands up to gently rest against both of August's cheeks, the touch bringing him back to reality with a light jolt. “It’s okay,” he reassured him, his voice low, soft. Now it was June’s turn to comfort, which he didn’t mind and honestly liked in a way (it made it feel like he also sincerely contributed to this relationship). “It’s okay now...I’m here. You’re here,” He leaned forward a bit and pressed a gentle kiss to his nose (the place that was easiest to reach in his position), “and I love you.” 

August looked down at June with quivering lips and eyes that slowly grew glassy, his hands moving to cup his cheeks before he leaned down and pressed a firmer yet still so, so soft kiss on his lips. “I love you too,” he whispered, tears starting to trail down his cheeks. June wanted to do something about them, but he let August take control.

He sat still and let his eyes flutter close as August kissed him again on the lips before trailing kisses across his cheek, up his forehead, and then towards his scar. June let his arms slowly drop from his boyfriend's face to lightly grip his arms as he pressed his lips against his scar, once, twice. He could feel the warmth of tears against it, but he chose not to say anything and instead gently squeezed his hands against his arms as a gesture of comfort, a silent way to say ‘ _ it’s okay.’  _ August’s response was a longer kiss to the scar. 

More time passed as June let himself be swaddled with kisses and affection, honestly enjoying the intimate, slightly bittersweet moment between the two of them. At some point, however, he found himself dozing lightly, only catching the fact when his head dropped off to the side and was gently caught by August, who readjusted his head before he wrapped his arms around his waist and brought him closer with the chair in between them. “I love you,” he whispered in that quiet tone that made June’s heart flutter, even in his current drowsy state, “so,  _ so _ much.” June hummed weakly and wrapped his arms around August’s around him. 

“I love you too,” he whispered back, eyes slowly cracking open to look up at his lover with hazy yet sincere eyes. “I always will.” August gazed down at him for a moment, almost as if he was marveling at the sight of him before he leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. 

He pressed a soft yet sweet kiss to June’s lips. “Always and forever,” he murmured, looking deep into June’s eyes. His lips curled into a grin, eyes crinkling ever so slightly. 

“Forever,” June repeated, a faint tone of wonder to his voice. 

“Forever.” August pressed another kiss to his lips, this one lasting much longer than all the ones before, something June was happy to indulge in. He always loved the feeling of August’s lips on his own. 

Unfortunately, August had to pull away at some point, but June was practically drunk off of all the affection he just received and was more than happy with what he had gotten, his body feeling warm and fuzzy and simply  _ content _ . It had been a very,  _ very _ rough path to get where they are now, but they were here, and June was so happy to be living in it with August. 

June was, however, quite sleepy after everything, especially with the warm fuzzy feeling making him even more drowsy than before; he didn’t even realize he had let his eyes flutter shut once more. August seemed to have noticed, though, as June heard a soft chuckle emanating from above. 

“Time to get you back to bed, my little Junebug.” The pure fondness June could hear in August’s tone made that warm feeling inside him grow, and he let out a quiet but content hum in response. He didn’t flinch or tense as he felt his sense of balance be slightly thrown off with the feeling of being scooped up with arms behind his back and knees. Instead, he curled into his lover’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as it lulled him into the clutches of sleep, every  _ tha-thump  _ reminding him of how thankful he was to be alive. 


	12. "Love" at First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neo is the head of a crime syndicate, specializing in drug production and distribution. He finds himself rather bored on a routinely visit with the low-levels, but then he meets someone far, far more interesting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Prequel to "Soft Kisses to the Scars I've Caused"! Or rather, How June and August—then (and in this drabble) Jun and Neo—met...
> 
> TW for drugs and mention of human trafficking, but nothing too extreme

It’s another routinely visit that Neo is forced to attend tonight. He usually doesn’t have to grace the low-rank drug dealers with his presence, but his father always told him that it’s good for him to “show off his reputation” by actually going and meeting the worker bees every now and then. Annoying insects.    
  
He’s only half-listening to the boy in front of him clearly trying to make himself look good as he cracks crude, lame jokes one after the other. Neo has the science behind feigning interest under his belt quite skillfully, and he’s sure that he looks like he’s paying attention to what this insect is saying, when really he’s thinking about how bored life in general is. It’s been a few days since his most recent pet was “broken” and sold off, he needs a new one...but he’s not sure if he really wants another typical pet. Maybe a new “tester”; those were always needed, but...that didn’t seem to peak his interest either. Where could he get a new pet, then..?    
  
“...Um, sir?” Neo quickly returned to reality with a blink of his eyes.    
  
“Hmm?” He hummed, placing his hand against his cheek as he looked down at the drug dealer (he didn’t care to memorize his name) with a half-lidded gaze.    
  
It seemed that his thoughts seemed to bleed into his expression as the lowlife started to panic a little bit. It was almost, almost amusing to watch him try to laugh it off. “Haha, hey, you uh, you thirsty? Here, Jun!” Neo slightly cringed and grimaced at the way he turned his head and yelled. It was unnecessarily loud and obnoxious, but he reminded himself that doing something to this dealer would only be a waste of time and the slightest bit of money (not too much that it’d be a big deal, but still).    
  
Not long after the yelling, he heard footsteps coming towards them. Neo didn’t turn his head and instead looked to his nails and examined if he should resharpen them as this “Jun” person or whatever came. “You called me, Liam?” The innocent, eager voice that he heard made Neo surprisingly intrigued, however. He turned his head in the direction of the voice, and for the first time in a long, long while, he found himself speechless.    
  
“Yeah, could ya get us a coupla’ shots of liquor?” What’s his face—he really didn’t care right now—sneered down at the most exquisite boy he’s seen in, really ever. His hair is a soft shade of hazel brown and his nose had the faintest of freckles speckled over the bridge. From those blue doe eyes to that wide, oblivious grin, he practically emanated innocence.    
  
“Oh, um, I don’t know Liam, isn’t alcohol illegal to drink here in college?” The boy—Jun, Jun he remembers the name was—speaks reluctantly, but yet...   
  
“Oh, but you’d be such a good friend for us if you did!” What’s-his-face nudged him a little.    
  
The way a bright smile almost immediately lit up on Jun’s face set Neo’s decision in stone.    
  
“W-well, in that case, I’ll do it! I’ll be right back then.” Jun turned around to get the drinks (which Neo wasn’t going to drink; common liquor was simply too bland for his tastes), but before he left, he caught eyes with Neo. They looked at each other for a brief moment before Jun gave the warmest smile the drug boss has ever seen directed right at him. It was but a brief moment, but one that stayed with him even as Jun turned his back towards him and headed out.    
  
Neo felt something...odd within him as he replayed that smile in his mind. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he definitely knew one thing for sure:  **_he had to have him._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** “That’s our servant boy, by the way,” What’s-his-face smirked. “He’s like an illegitimate child of a rich family or something, and he’s super easy to manipulate however you want. Hell, he’s practically an eager pet for you if you just tell him you’ll be friends with him if he does something.” It’s obvious that he called him here to brag, to get on Neo’s better side, but he forgives it this time. He’s brought him something that’ll definitely cure his boredom. He looks down at the boy and smiles, unknowing (or perhaps uncaring) of the way the boy’s face blanches.    
  
_ “You said his name is Jun, right?” _


	13. I'd Like to Get to Know You Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun never expected company, but he was more than happy to have some.
> 
> Especially when it was that handsome guy he saw at his friend's place the other day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A direct continuation to "Love" at First Sight!

Jun’s head darted toward the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, his roommate always too high and at his girlfriend’s place to ever be at their dorm. The thought of someone wanting to see him made his whole body light up in excitement. “Coming!” He yelled, not wanting this person to leave just yet. He dropped the other clothes he was holding (having had a hard time deciding which one to wear, and none of his friends responded to his messages...) and took only a few steps to reach the door (the dorms weren’t that big, you see).    
  
He brushed off his clothes and made sure he was a bit presentable before opening the door. “Yes?” He greeted without even taking in who it was, but his eyes grew wide as they trailed up to meet a familiar face. Almost immediately, a bright grin lit up his face.    
  
“Hello. You were Liam’s friend, right?” He didn’t catch a name that night, but Jun couldn’t ever forget that handsome face he caught sight of at Liam’s place. He hasn’t been able to get into contact with Liam, as was evident just a few minutes ago when he didn’t answer any of his calls.    
  
Jun couldn’t help but stare at those alluring golden eyes before he blinked and flushed a little bit in realization. “A-ah yeah, I am!” He nodded, a goofy grin still curled on his lips (not that he noticed, he was still just beyond happy to see this person again). “Are you looking for Liam? I-I can help you search for him!” He wanted to know this person more. Maybe they could be friends too! He’d like to know his name, at least.    
  
The boy chuckled, which made feel warm at the sound. He liked his laugh. “No, I’ve actually been looking for you,” he says in that low, smooth tone. Jun’s face was quick to heat up at that, his heart picking up the pace as he suddenly felt flustered.   
  
“H-huh? Me??” He couldn’t believe it. Someone, especially someone like him, was looking for him??    
  
Another chuckle, another warm feeling spreading throughout his body. “Yes, you. You seemed quite interesting, that night we met.” Jun’s heart soared at his words, the grin on his lips growing ever wider in wonder. “I came because I actually would like to get to know more about you, if that’s okay with you?” He looked a bit sheepish as he ran a hand through his black hair, which shone with a bluish tint in the light. Jun blinked, feeling overwhelmed for a moment before he felt like he was about to burst in excitement.    
  
“Y-Yeah!” he blurted out a bit loudly, which made him flush in embarrassment. He composed himself a bit and added, “I’d—I’d love to! Yeah, yes, I’d, I’d like to know more about you, too!” The boy’s lips split into a warm grin, one that made Jun’s stomach explode with fuzziness and butterflies and oh my god he’s so happy right now!!    
  
“Then, I’ll come by same time tomorrow?” He asked, and Jun, despite the back of his mind reminding him he had classes this time tomorrow, eagerly nodded. He could always skip a class, the teacher should understand (even if it’s one of the classes he’s failing in a little). It was worth it anyway, especially with the way the boy nodded and gave him another heart-melting smile.    
  
“I’ll see you then, then~ Oh, and—“ He held out his hand. “You can call me Neo.”    
  
Jun definitely was grinning ear to ear as he eagerly took the hand (it’s so warm, and feels so safe to hold—) and shook it. “You can call me Jun!”


	14. Gentle Strums of a Guitar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hibiki's mother was lost; that is, until she hears the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is meant for a BNHA OC but now that I look at it, you don't need to know it's from BNHA to understand anything lol
> 
> TW for implied suicide? 
> 
> If the link doesn't work, here's the music she hears: https://youtu.be/9rJtb2uxXg4

She knew she should have seen it coming. How could she have been so blind?

She stared at the old, beaten guitar resting against the wall of the room,  _ his _ room. It feels painfully empty and cold, like it lacked warmth. She wondered how she could have never noticed its emptiness...but then, she realized, she had never fully entered his room in a long, long time. 

She should have seen it coming.

Her mind waded through her memories and reached a halt at one.

She remembered she came home a little early that night—it was nearing Christmas at that time, and her last boss let everyone go early. She remembered wanting to take advantage of the time to sleep, her son non-existent in her thoughts at the time as she instead checked up on her daughter, who had the rare chance at staying home that week. 

She remembered peeking into the warmly lit room, dim lights the shade of pink illuminating the plush bed surrounded by multiple stuffed animals. She remembered seeing her daughter all cuddled up to those fluffy toys. Now the memory only made her throat tighten as she could see the stark contrast between this warm, fluffy room and the cold, desolate room she stood in right then and there in the present.

Then she hears  [ the music ](https://youtu.be/9rJtb2uxXg4) .

It sounded soft, just a tad muted; it filled the air—the gentle strums of guitar strings that she knew so well, conveying so many feelings that she couldn't describe through words alone. She feels herself be lulled towards the source, feeling like a trance had overtaken her as her feet moved her without any prompt. 

As she gets closer, she realizes she recognizes this song. It is sung with no words, but she remembers. It’s a song that’s close to her heart, one of the first she sung on stage.

She remembers feeling dazes as her feet stopped right at his door. She remembers taking a peek through the slight crack. She remembers watching with her own eyes her son playing with a guitar— _ her _ guitar, which she had long since forgotten—and doing so so  _ beautifully _ . It was clear, even now, that he had  _ talent _ . She remembers watching him play for what seemed like hours, feeling the fatigue of the past week washing away with every strum, with every beat. 

When the song comes to an end, she felt herself snap out of her reverie. She should have gone towards him, she should have approached him, hugged him, complimented him, told him  _ something _ , anything. 

But instead, she left him alone, shoved the music—the memories—into the back of her mind. Instead she pretended like she had never seen him play, pretended that he had been sleeping, she had been dreaming, and her guitar was still long forgotten, never to play again. 

She hadn’t wanted to face the implications, didn’t want to face  _ him _ and how clear it was that he had such  _ talent _ , just like she had. Just like the one she could never pursue ever again. Instead, she ran away, almost like she knew she had been neglecting him. Maybe deep down, she did.

Maybe, if she had faced him that day, gone inside, and seen how sad and cold and empty his room was, how much  _ he  _ probably was, maybe then he’d be here now. 

Maybe then music would still be playing now, maybe then the room would be warmer, warmer with his smiles, with the gentle strums of a guitar still reverberating through the room.

Maybe then he wouldn’t be gone.

She didn’t realize she had been crying until she felt something fall from her eyes, snapping her from her memory. Slowly, she brought a hand to her cheeks, feeling warm wetness on it as she stared down at the guitar, which now held a few teardrops resting on its strings. 

Seeing those tears on those strings, the strings that he once held, it finally made her break down. 

Tears continuously poured from her cheeks. A sob wrecked her throat as it tumbled from her lips. She doubled over, covering her face with her hands as she wailed. 

She would never hear that soft, gentle music again. She would never get the chance to let warmth greet this room. 

She would never see her son ever again.

Nothing but her broken sobs filled the room that once held the gentle strums of a guitar.


	15. Have You Seen My Angel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you the angel that Heaven lost a few days ago?" Jay flirts with the cute guy he sees at the bar.
> 
> However, the response he gets is not what he was expecting. "How did they find me so fast?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this prompt!](https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/182965181051/in-a-bar-a-person-sees-a-gorgeous-beautiful)

"Are you the angel that Heaven lost a few days ago?"

Jay had used that line many times before. Call him a cheesy man, but he always liked the implications it had, and it was at least slightly different from the usual flirt, or it was in his book, anyway. 

"How did they find me so fast?" 

Jay blinked, taken back. “H-huh?” Of all the times he had used that line, that response was definitely a first.

The bewilderment quickly wears off of the beautiful man’s face, his expression flitting through various emotions like fear, apprehensions, anger—before it finally settled on confusion. His bright blue eyes flickered over Jay as he said, “You’re not part of the Army.” 

Jay was still reeling from this whole flirting situation gone wrong, but he still managed to get out, “N-no, never got drafted.” He was quite experienced with flirting and hook-ups, but the way this rather handsome man’s gaze seemed to take him all in made him feel a little flustered, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. The mysterious man tucked some stray strands of his long blond hair away from his face as he seemingly studied Jay.

After a few moments, Jay jumped slightly as the man suddenly gasped and snapped his fingers. “Oh! Oh, you’re just like me, aren’t you??” The man’s eyes, a deep sapphire hue, Jay notices, glittered with the sudden revelation he’s made, and to be honest, Jay isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond. He opened and closed his mouth like some sort of dumbfounded fish, and that only seemed to further confirm the man’s theory. He leaned forward quite a fair amount and Jay felt heat creep down his neck, his eyes flitting over the man’s eyes to his lips and then blushing even more. If the man noticed, he made no such indication as a wide grin split across his pretty features. “I’d—I’d heard other angels had run away before, but,” he let out a laugh that sounded rather pleasant in Jay’s ears, “I never thought I’d get to meet one!” He slotted his hands to fit against Jay’s own, and he was pretty sure that a) this man might actually be a real angel and b) his face must practically rival a tomato at this point. 

Then those hands gripping his were tugging him, and suddenly the human found himself being eagerly dragged out of the bar. “Come! Oh, there’s so much I wanna know, but we gotta get to a safer location first.” The man practically had a skip to his step as he hurried down the street.

Jay was getting increasingly worried about what was going to happen when he found out he wasn’t an actual angel or anything (probably quite the opposite), but for now, he couldn’t help but let himself be dragged hand-in-hand by this beautiful man. 


	16. Music Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny how many horrible memories are within just a simple box.
> 
> It's not funny. Kagerou appears to be smiling anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A test drabble of some BSD OCs...they're a lot more different now but I still like how this prototype came out.
> 
> TW abuse..? If that's how you see it, anyway

She could hear a music box playing.

She hated that damn music box, the one with the “cute” little ballerina on top of it, spinning round and round and round as if to  _ mock _ her each time that damned woman drew near. She supposed she was supposed to be thankful to it as she grew up with its music acting as a warning that  _ she _ drew near. Every time she heard the whirring of gears and the tinkly tones of that melody playing, she remembers immediately rushing off to her room, dashing to put the covers under her as footsteps matched the slowing rhythm of the music that accompanied it. Sometimes, she swore,  _ her  _ footsteps deliberately went at the tempo of the music, she swore on the days when the music box was wound just a turn too much, and its melody played at a much faster pace, she remembers being a second too late to get under the covers in time, resulting in more burns and more scars to litter her already-tainted body. 

And the worst part of it all, she remembers? The worst part was when the music would abruptly come to an end, sometimes leaving nothing but the sound of her muffled, heavy breathing that she so desperately would try to slow down to something at least kind of resembling the deep cadence of sleep, her heart pounding in tandem with the growing footsteps of her mother. But those were the best-case scenarios, ones where she never got caught. The worse-case scenario—no, the worst-case  _ experience _ is when the music cuts off while she’s in the middle of running, because then there’s nothing but silence to cover for her frantic footsteps and heavy breathing. Those days were the ones where she accumulated the most scars, and the most nightmares.

It still haunts her now, the echoes of a music box long broken, long destroyed. She wished it could have perished by her own hands, just like that damn woman did. 

So, when she heard the beginnings of that tinkly melody, she immediately darts over and snatches the infernal box out of Akiko’s hands.

“You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you, Aki-chan~” she scolded in a cheerful tone, years of practice betraying none of her trauma.

“But it’s pretty,” Akiko murmured quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, though that was quite normal for the young girl. Kagerou smiled and, resisting the urge to crush the miniature devil in her hands, put the foul instrument back on the shopkeeper’s stall.

“I think dolls are a lot cuter,” she tried to reason as she subtly coaxed Akiko from the stall, even as the girl’s gaze was still locked onto it, her small, pale little lips giving a cute pout. God, she was  _ adorable.  _ Kagerou really couldn’t bear to say no to a face like that, but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing  _ that _ would be travelling with them, so she came up with a compromise. 

“Why don’t we go find a new doll for you~?” she offered, her tone ever so light-hearted. She was glad and expected the immediate head-turn the young little girl did, her black hair that faded to white at the tips whiplashing with the sheer speed as her red eyes sparkled much more than it had for that stupid box. 

“Really?” the noiret whispered, her small hand squeezing Kagerou’s tighter. “Really really?”

Kagerou gave a soft smile, a sincere one (she was getting quite good at this sincere thing, though judging by her intentions behind everything, maybe not  _ very _ good, but still, progress was progress). 

“Yes, really really,” she nodded then urged them forward. “C’mon, we’ll get it along the way.”

“Will Diablo get to come out and play?” Akiko asked, tilting her head in an innocent manner.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think he needs to come out,” Kagerou hummed. She glanced down towards the girl and gave a little devious smirk, her teeth poking out just a bit as her eyes darkened, though one could argue it was a simple trick of the light. “Not just yet, anyway.” Akiko smiled at that, seemingly satisfied with the answer as she came close and cuddle the older girl’s arm more.

Kagerou couldn’t help but grin softly at the gesture (that was another thing she was getting better at: being soft). 

When Akiko wasn’t looking, she glanced back towards the stall they had just visited. Her gaze became trained on the small music box they had just put back. A slowing melody and thudding footsteps and a racing heartbeat echoed in her head before she banished the memories and kept on walking away. If she picked up her pace just a little bit, no one would know. 


	17. Forget Me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Yuzuki's journey to find a missing Sachi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Kagerou and Akiko's updated/current versions!

Yuzuki was lost, or rather, she had lost something—to her, the two are practically the same.

“Sachi?” she meekly called out, her grip on her black teddy bear tightening as she searched their shared apartment for her...friend (there is one word she thinks applies the best to their relationship, but she saved that word for special occasions only). She lifted the covers of Sachi’s bed, but she wasn't there. Yuzuki looked left, right, and even up just in case, but no, Sachi wasn’t there. 

_ If she isn’t in her bedroom, then maybe… _ The young girl turned her head towards the side door beside the bed, but that door was already open, and there she could see Sachi wasn’t in it. She poked her head into the bathroom, just in case, but no, Sachi wasn’t showering either. 

Yuzuki pursed her lips, the white tips of her hair brushing against her face as she turned her head back and forth, hoping that maybe Sachi will magically appear when she turns her head back, but unfortunately, that didn’t seem to work. 

_ What should I do..? _

Their home wasn’t all that big, not that Yuzuki minded at all—she rather liked their home—but that meant there weren’t many other places Sachi could be hiding. Sachi doesn’t even like hiding, at least not when they’re home. Their home was the only place they were truly safe; that was what Sachi had said, and so Yuzuki believed it. But then where could she be..? 

Suddenly, something caught her eye. Silvery irises flickered towards the nightstand beside Sachi’s bed. Usually, it was empty on top, except for _that_ picture that Sachi always had, but now...there was a book on top of it. Yuzuki only vaguely recognized it from the rare times Sachi ever took a book out of _that_ place. She usually put “books” _in_ , so to see one outside was quite a rarity. 

It was a rather worn book, even Yuzuki could see that. Its pages were yellowed and slightly crumpled on the edges, but what really caught her attention was the small blue flowers that were pressed onto it to serve as the book’s cover. She forgot the name of those flowers, but she remembered they were Sachi’s favorite, and it reminded her of where she could find her. 

Clutching her teddy bear’s hand, she shuffled out of Sachi’s room.

~✿~

When Yuzuki caught sight of a person with bandaged arms and a blue scarf laying over a patch of multiple small flowers, the young girl breathed out a quiet sigh.

“What a relief…” she murmured. She pouted, a bit miffed that Sachi went and almost scared her, but her expression faded into one of mild surprise. 

As she got closer, she noticed the prominent look on Sachi’s face. She didn’t know how to describe it; it looked sad but at the same time, almost...happy? No, not happy, but...something else. It looked like what Yuzuki thinks her face would look like staring at a doll she knows she can’t have. There was a word for that, but right now Yuzuki couldn’t think of it.

So instead, she wondered why Sachi’s face was turned to the side, appearing as if she was looking at someone. Yuzuki tried to look at the same thing as she was, but all she saw was the flowers—the same kind as the one on the book. 

Sachi always liked to lay in patches of flowers for whatever reason, but she liked laying in her favorite kind the most. Looking back on it, she always turns her head to the side and has that sad look only when laying on those flowers and not any other kind.

Yuzuki can’t help but watch silently as Sachi silently gazes at whatever she’s looking at. She feels like it wouldn't be right to disturb her at the moment. 

“...The sky, is really pretty today, don’t you think?” Yuzuki hears Sachi murmur. She looks down at her teddy bear and mentally asks it if it knew who she was talking to. When she gets no answer, she turns her attention back to Sachi, only to find her brown eyes now locked onto Yuzuki’s own, that sad expression gone without a trace and instead replaced with a surprised grin.

“Yuzuki! Didn’t see you there.” Sachi hops to her feet in one go, bandaged hands coming up to adjust the loose scarf around her neck. “How’d ya find me?” she casually asks as she pats down her signature coat.

“I saw the book on your desk,” Yuzuki replied, her voice as soft as it usually is, though it held a sort of fondness reserved only for Sachi.

“Book?” Sachi blinked, confused. “What book?” 

“The one with your favorite flower,” Yuzuki easily answered, coming up to Sachi to hold her hand, as she always does. Sachi takes it without hesitation, or without much thought; it’s only natural at this point. Instead, she hums and taps her chin with her free hand.

“My favorite flower..you mean—” Sachi turned her head around to face the small flowers behind her. Yuzuki looks up at her and sees her eyes grow wide, though Yuzuki isn’t exactly  _ too _ worried; she’s seen Sachi do this before, every time she sees those small flowers.

The young girl waits expectantly, and sure enough, Sachi goes: “Right, right...Forget-me-nots, yes…” Yuzuki sees that sad expression on Sachi’s face again, except this time it looks even sadder, so she tugs on her hand. Yuzuki doesn’t like it when Sachi’s sad.

“I want to eat,” she states, perhaps a bit too bluntly to some, but it’s how she’s always spoke. Sachi looks back at her now, eyes blinking a few times with a briefly confused expression before her face lights up with her signature grin that Yuzuki likes. She always likes seeing Sachi happy, much more than when she’s sad, and even more than when she’s mad. She’s only seen her mad a few times, mostly towards street vendors, but...Yuzuki would much rather she see Sachi smile more than anything.

“That’s right! We haven’t had anything to eat today yet,” Sachi squeezed Yuzuki’s hand, and they both started walking out of the field. “What would you like, Yuzuki?” 

“Mochi,” Yuzuki answered immediately, her teddy bear gently swaying with every step.

“You got it~! I think there’s this really cute café nearby that serves some good mochi, let’s go there,” Sachi suggested, her eyes glittering. A small grin curled onto Yuzuki’s lips and she leaned closer to Sachi.

The young girl didn’t notice, but Sachi gave her a fond look, her bright expression turning into something warmer, almost motherly as she ever so slightly tightened her grip on the girl’s hand.

“...Then, I’ve heard there’s this really nice café that’s on the first floor of an office building…” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to request anything ranging from knowing more about certain OCs or scenarios, feel free to leave a comment or visit [my tumblr (mycelle-hell)!](https://mycelle-hell.tumblr.com)


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